


Blood of an Angel

by xenobia4



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angel Wings, Blood, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.





	1. Abandonment

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a few years ago,  
> but it's still a fanfic I'm really proud of. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! (^ ^*)
> 
> —UPDATE—  
> For people complaining, note that Alec and Magnus are already an established couple in this.  
> I love both characters and this story doesn't shit on one to build up another.

**1**

**Abandonment**

Jace sat on the edge of a fountain in Central Park with his knees bent and his elbows sitting on them as he continued to watch the water spout out and fall into the pool below. A cool breeze blew, ruffling his hair and causing fallen leaves to sweep the ground around him; he shivered slightly, but ignored the chill bumps rising on his arms. Few of the lamps in the park were still turned on – the closest one being several yards away from him. The light from the moon was bright enough to drench him in the silver glow of moonlight, shading parts of his face and allowing his shadow to be seen on the curve of the fountain’s edge. Judging by the orb’s position, it was well past midnight, which made him realize that he had been sitting in the same area for a few hours: Between walking around the fountain multiple times and occasionally sitting on one of the surrounding benches, he wondered how much longer he should wait before returning.

Then again, after everything that had happened, perhaps going back was not the option he wanted open. Seeing everyone with their smiles and happy demeanor – it was unbearable. While he was glad that they were able to have legit happiness, he also felt jealousy towards them. After Clary left—

No.

After Clary _abandoned_ him, he retreated, giving false smiles and laughs to those around him. Granted, the pain of losing her faded as more time passed, but the traces that remained would sometime become nearly unbearable.

And the others wondered why he had become so hostile recently.

He snorted and picked up one of the pebbles on the fountain’s cement bench, tossing it into the water and watching it splash lightly before it slowly drifted to the bottom to settle with the lot of shimmering coins. Why mundanes would willingly waste their valuable money on false wishes never did make much sense, despite how many times Clary and Simon had tried to explain it to him.

He felt a sharp pain enter his chest at the memory.

The wind picked up again, this time stronger and he pulled his knees closer to his chest, trying to lock in his body heat. He had left without anything on his person; while he had nearly had instant regret for leaving without any weaponry other than one seraph blade, it was only now that he regretted leaving without at least grabbing a jacket or something to help keep him warm. The wind died down for a moment, then immediately blew again, even stronger. Groaning, Jace tossed his legs over the edge of the fountain and took to his feet, crossing his arms and turning his back to the wind as he walked away from the fountain and down a path that winded through the park.

As he stepped into the light coming from a dimly lit lamp, he thought he saw a figure standing in the shadows a little ways down the path. He blinked and squinted his eyes, trying to see if it was indeed a person or if his eyes were tricking his mind. His hands unfolded themselves and he lifted his shirt with his left hand, placing and gripping the hilt of his blade as he cautiously step forward. He called out, but the figure stood still – unmoving. He eyed it suspiciously, but as he got closer, he relaxed and allowed his tensed shoulders to drop and hand to release the handle of his blade.

 _You’re losing it, Jace_ , he thought to himself when he realized that the shape was from an oddly shaped bush around a young tree. He released a light laugh at his string of idiotic paranoia. The wind blew again and he rubbed his bare arms, trying to use friction to heat up his cold skin. With nothing more than a short-sleeved black t-shirt to keep his upper body warm and dark gray gym pants made from light-cotton covering his legs, it came to no surprise that the cool night air had him shivering at every other moment. He had not thought this through. He released another small laugh.

“Jace?”

He flinched and turned around, seeing a familiar face cast in shadows. He breathed a sigh of relief, trying to calm down his racing heart. It was a rare time for him to be startled; but with everything else on his mind….

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice somewhat bland as it trailed out. Even though he was relieved to know it was someone familiar, he still would have preferred to be left alone.

They shrugged, their hands shoved half-hazardously in the pockets of their large, faded black hoodie. “You just left.” Jace rolled his eyes. “I was – we were concerned.”

“I don’t need your all’s concern,” he snapped. He met the other’s blue eyes; their eyebrows were furrowed upwards, creasing the space between their eyebrows. Seeing their facial expression, Jace sighed as another pang shot through his chest. “I’m sorry, Alec. I’m just…a little on edge is all.”

Alec’s facial expression relaxed and he allowed a gentle smile to cover it. “It’s all right.” When the wind blew again, Alec shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and shook. “It’s freezing out here,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Aren’t you cold?”

Jace shrugged. “Not really,” he lied. Alec frowned, clearly being able to tell; not as though the chill bumps and hair standing straight up on his arms was any give away.

“Jace,” Alec released the younger male’s name in a breath. “You’re a poor liar.” The blond adverted his eyes towards the ground and to the side. He heard Alec move around. “Here” Jace glanced up to see Alec holding out the hoodie to him. Underneath the sweater, Alec had been wearing a long-sleeved black and blue turtleneck, which looked to have been made out of wool – something Magnus had undoubtedly gotten for him.

Jace shook his head, his blonde hair moving slightly. “I don’t want it.”

“Just take the thing and stop being stubborn.”

The expression of mild shock came over Jace’s angelic face, making him seem somewhat childlike. It was a rare time for Alec to ever act forceful or demanding. Though, since he and Magnus had become close, he did not seem to mind sticking up for himself more often than he used to. That and he was not as hesitant to demand more things from Jace – mainly because the younger Shadowhunter had begun to become careless about his overall health. He had started spending more time hunting demons for no other reason than he could; he would constantly taunt certain Downworlders just to get a decent fight out of them (most of the time he was spent losing); he had begun eating less and less; and even neglected his appearance. More times than not, he would manage to get himself into some sort of trouble he needed help getting out of. It was no wonder the others had become annoyed with his new persona.

The expression of shock was quickly replaced with annoyance and Jace grabbed the hoodie. “Thanks.” He muttered as he slipped it on. He pulled it tight around him; it having already been warm from Alec’s body heat. “How’d you find me, anyway?” he asked as they had started walking.

Alec shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “By chance, I guess.” Jace raised a brow. “When you didn’t come back, I just…I don’t know. I thought I’d look around for a bit.” Jace stared in front of him, the sidewalk seeming to stretch and curve a million different ways. He shook his head. “I was actually about to head back.”

“Hm,” the response came. He felt his brain pound against his skull and he held his head, trying to get the head-rush to fade. He clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head again and trying to open his eyes. Still, the park seemed to become a twisted mirage of smeared trees blended into the sky.

“You all right?” Alec asked, seeing his ally stagger slightly.

Jace nodded his head and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah. Just…lightheaded.”

They stopped walking and Alec watched as Jace continued to hold his head, trying to stabilize himself. The earth beneath his feet felt as though it were rocking back-and-forth – as though he were standing on a ship in harsh seas. He groaned and stumbled back, hand reaching behind him to find something to lean against. He tried opening his eyes, but everything was becoming black and further distorted. He could see Alec’s curious look, but it, too, blurred. He swayed again, this time reaching his hand forward to latch onto Alec’s shoulder; Alec’s hand was quick to be on his back, helping to support him. He felt his limbs start to go numb and he ended up falling forward, only to be caught by the older male. His mind was swimming and an ethereal feeling flooded his body. Pressed up against Alec and with Alec’s hands wrapped around his back to keep him up, something seemed different. Perhaps it was just the effects of what was happening, but his scent appeared…different.

The last thing he remembered was Alec’s hand rubbing up and down his back before he fell into a peaceful darkness.   

* * *

Jace groaned, turning his head to the side. Perhaps the fact that he had not eaten in a few days had finally got to him. So much stress had been ongoing, it was no wonder his body was being affected. He felt the cold concrete beneath him, which had him realize he was lying on the sidewalk in the park - his head lying on something soft, which must have been Alec’s lap. He brought his hand up to hold his head, rubbing his eyes before opening them, seeing the fuzzy figure of Alec leaning over him. He clamped his eyes shut.

“What happened?” he asked, words slightly slurred.

He did not get a response. Instead, the response he was given was Alec running his hand through his hair, pushing it back as he let his fingers glide through it. Jace opened his right eye, his left hand still rubbing his left eye. The sky behind Alec appeared gray, but as his vision came into focus, he noticed that it was no longer the sky that was above him, but a gray, cement ceiling. He brought his hand down, vision finally coming into full focus and he stared curious at Alec, who had a blank expression toying with his features.

“Where am I?” he asked, words still somewhat slurred as a wave of nausea rushed over him.

His brain still felt as though it were pounding against his skull, ready to explode. He turned his head, taking in his surroundings. Cement walls surrounded them and a single door was on the far end of the room; it was dimly lit with only a single light dangling from the middle of the ceiling; close to him was a tattered mattress, no sheets were upon it and it looked as though blood had dried on it at one point, certain areas splotched with a dark, brownish red. That was also when he noticed runes drawn on the walls around them. They were lightly drawn, which was why his eyes did not catch them at first, but they were definitely there. Most of them he did not recognize: They were…foreign.

“I’ve been trying to find you for a while, Jace,” Alec spoke, his voice hollow.

Jace turned his head to stare back up at the older male, his eyes narrowed out of confusion. “Wha—?”

Alec stood, leaving Jace’s head to hit the cement floor beneath him. He cringed when his head thudded against the floor, but sat up to see Alec walk towards the table against the wall right of the door. Papers were scattered amongst it, as well as a book that lay face open. “You put yourself in this position, you know.”

Jace stared at him in awe. “Alec, wha—?”

“You’re so naïve,” he said, turning around to watch the blond. The confusion on his face was almost childlike; like a child would give their parents during a separation. “When are you going to understand that no one cares about you? Your selfish attitude, your passive demeanor. You’re pathetic.” He scoffed at the reaction he was getting. “You always expect everyone to do everything for you. You willingly throw yourself into dangerous situations because you know that someone will be there to bail you out.”

Jace went to respond, but the wave of nausea became stronger and he clenched his jaw, his innards twisting. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and set his forehead on the cold concrete, trying to calm his beating heart, which was not helping the feeling to fade. He released a groan, which sounded almost like a whine, from the pit of his throat. “What’s happening?” he asked, his tone flooded with pain.

Alec shrugged, stepping up to Jace and kneeling down beside him, placing his hand on his head; he began petting the top of his head, seeming strangely amused by the younger Nephilim’s reaction. “Sorry about that.” A smile crept across his face. “Apparently, the side effects of chloroform absorption include nausea and vomiting.” He shrugged. “Oops.”

Jace wanted to ask, but his stomach twisted and he lifted his head off the floor just as he regurgitated; only bile came, there having been nothing in his stomach. His eyes began to tear up from the reaction and he outstretched his hand, clutching onto the front of Alec’s shirt, fingers gripping into the fabric as the second wave hit him and he excreted more bile onto the cement floor. He sniffed and wiped his mouth, trying to pull his head up, but, instead, rested his head on Alec’s chest.

“Why?” Jace asked in a whisper, trying to keep from regurgitating a third time.

“To prove a point.” The answer came quick. Jace furrowed his eyebrows: Alec’s voice had changed. He felt his muscles contract again and he pulled his head away from the other as more bile was extracted from his mouth. He spit the remainder out before looking sideways to the other looking back him; a sadistic smile twisted onto their face.

With eyes shimmering with water from his body’s reaction, Jace was finding it difficult to narrow his eyes at the speaker – his captor.

“Welcome home, Jace.”

_Jonathan._


	2. Englightenment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much negativity~
> 
> Seriously, though.   
> My fic is not tagged incorrectly.  
> Everything listed is what goes on.   
> So...yeah.
> 
> Enjoy it.   
> And if you're going to curse at me or throw a hissy, your comment will be deleted.   
> We don't spend weeks and months of our time writing to be spoken to like that.

**2**

**Enlightenment**

Isabelle cursed when her hand slipped and a dark purple streak of nail polish was now running across her foot. She grabbed the tissue that sat next to her and started to wipe it off, making sure not to ruin the pattern already on the nail. Once it was cleared off, she released an aggravated sigh and pulled her head up to watch her brother pace around the room as he bit the nail on his index finger. She frowned when he walked over to the far window on the other side of the mahogany desk and peered outside, down into the streets. Moonlight flooded in from the windows, dousing her brother in silver and casting a shadow behind him. Had it not have been for the fact she was sitting by an Oriental lamp that was sitting on a table next to the chair, she doubted she would have been able to work at all.

She went back to finishing the cross pattern on that nail when a loud thump interrupted her, causing her to create another line of nail polish running down her skin.

“Alec!” she shouted at him as she grabbed the tissue, yet again, to clean it off. “Would you stop for five seconds?” She muttered a name directed towards him as she wiped off the excess liquid. She heard her brother mumble something or other, but could not make out what. She finished the cross quickly and capped the bottle, then looked up to see Alec with one hand resting on the window and his right forearm pressed against the window’s frame; his eyes continued to search the area outside. She set the bottle of nail polish on the table and stretched out her legs, allowing the liquid to dry. “If you’re still that concerned, then go look for him.” The response she received was silence. “Or you can just stand there staring out of the window like a dog waiting for its master to come home,” she said with a shrug; he sent a glare to her from over his shoulder. “Well.”

Alec pushed back from the window, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned around the face his sister and leaned his back against the wall, now standing in between the streams of moonlight flooding the room. “I’ve already been out twice.” He watched as Isabelle leaned back in the chair, grabbing both of the chair’s arms with each hand. “And it’s not like we can just sit here and act like nothing’s our fault.”

She flipped her hair behind her, it having fallen over her shoulders from her earlier position. “His attitude isn’t our fault.”

“No, but him leaving was in part.”

Isabelle shrugged again, this time taking to her feet and meeting her brother’s eyes. “Maybe it’s your fault,” she muttered under her breath. “Besides, it’s not like he’s just going to run off and not come back.” Alec bit his bottom lip, contemplating Jace’s actions. Isabelle could see his questioning face as his eyes traced the floor and she shook her head. “You can stay here and worry all you want, but I’ll be laughing when he shows up at three in the morning and you were fretting over nothing.”

With that said, she turned on her heel to the large wooden doors and grabbed the handle, pulling the left one open and leaving through it. The door shut with a loud _clang_ behind her. Alec pushed off of the wall and went to gaze back out of the window, once again stepping into the silver light.

Voices had been raised, crude words were exchanged and then Jace had just left; without as much as a jacket, he had just left. Alec questioned whether or not Jace had even had a weapon when he left; and that was one of the main things that concerned him. That and the fact that the temperature had been dropping since early that evening and, even with long-sleeves, the cold was obvious. Earlier, Isabelle had suggested that Alec just get Magnus to search for him; but, not wanting to make the air feel any more awkward, he decided against it. He would give it another hour before going back out to look for him.

* * *

Jace released a shout and jerked his hand back; his hand turned red from touching the door and blisters instantly formed on his palm. He stepped back, staring at the door and trying to decipher the runes. Few were ones he did know: Barrier, Fire and Angel. He turned to look back around the room while still coddling his burned hand. His eyes were continually drawn to the dirtied mattress that was lying on the floor close to the far wall and the dried blood that covered it – though he was curious, he did not care to know who (or what) the blood had come from. He brought his attention to the small table and chair at the far end of the room; the book lay upon it, still closed. Shaking his hand, he walked to it. There were no barriers protecting it to keep him away from it. With his uninjured hand, he reached out and touched it, making sure. No markings were on the cover: It was just a blank, maroon, leather cover. It looked tattered and worn and it felt as though it was going to fall apart as he opened it. The parchment pages in it were also blank and he furrowed his eyebrows.

What use was an empty book?

There had to have been a trick to make the words reveal themselves; out of reflex, he made a grab for his seraph blade, but it was already gone. He had found that out earlier when Jonathan was still in the room. The only thing that fighting him got him was a cut across his face from his own blade and several bruises – including a cracked rib. He did his best to ignore the pain, even though every step, every movement and every breath he made was a constant reminder. Each time his lungs expanded against his ribcage, a stabbing pain from the injured rib intensified. Yet, if the injuries were all he had to deal with, he could manage; what he wanted to know was why Valentine’s son was keeping him alive at all when he had more than enough chances to kill him.

He stepped back, holding his side as he tried to see if pressing lightly on his ribs would keep them from hurting so much; he was met with the same sharp, stabbing pain. He felt the need to lie down; with the pain he was experiencing, his body did not want to keep standing and wanted – needed – rest. He turned, his eyes landing on the mattress. The two sides of his mind were torn: Half wanting to lie down and rest; the other half filled with disgust and retreat. A sudden stab to his stomach was enough to have him approach it and sit down.

Once he was sitting down, he tried to lie back, cringing as he set his back on the semi-soft surface. Some of the pain let up and he stared at the cement ceiling above, evening his breathing. Shutting his eyes, he tried to form an idea in his head on how he was going to manage to get himself out of his predicament. With the foreign runes blocking the only exit, the only thing he could think of was to wait for Sebastian – Jonathan – to return and take his chances when the door was opened. Or at least he hoped it would fare better than his earlier try. Either way, he still had naught a single idea where he was. Wherever he was, he was sure it was someplace that he would be familiar with once he was able to get out of the room and look around.

As he lay there, he felt his body begin to sink into the mattress; fatigue wracked his body and, even though the conditions were clearly less than suitable, he found himself drifting off. 

* * *

“You don’t have to act so childish about it!”

“ _I’m_ being childish?! What about you?! Still acting like some lovesick mutt!”

Jace’s narrowed eyes met Alec’s eyes, which were sending the same message. Hostility rose between them as their faces were mere centimeters apart, after a physical spat that happened moments earlier that Isabelle had broken up by calling them both children. It had seemed like something that would happen in a comic strip. Alec had Jace by the throat and the younger Shadowhunter was pushing Alec’s chin up while elbowing him in the ribs. That was when Isabelle had come walking into the room. She did not even glance at them – her face buried in a book as she walked through – as she said, “Calm down, kids.” She was gone from the room as quickly as she had been in it, but the comment was enough to break the two apart.

“What does it matter to you what I do?!” Jace yelled at him, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Alec scoffed. “Because I’m not going to be held responsible when you decide to be an idiot and get yourself killed!”

The entire argument spawned when Jace had returned with fresh cuts and bruises, obviously from taunting some Downworlders and getting into a brawl; either that or he had been on the losing end of a fight with a brick. He would not say how, but the blade (or blades) he had carried with him ended up losing themselves in one way or another. After he was healed up, he had gone to clean up himself – to wash away the sweat and dried blood that he wreaked of. He had only been out of the shower five minutes when Alec had confronted him about his nightly scraps and lack of caring about what happened to him. 

“No one’s holding you responsible,” Jace said in a low voice.

Their eyes locked together. Even through the fury, the concern in Alec’s eyes shined through; for some reason, seeing the emotion irritated the blond, making him want to break eye contact. 

Alec growled. “Why do you have to act so foolish?” he asked, shoving Jace’s shoulders harshly.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” His eyes flashed, which, in turn, caused even further aggravation in Alec’s face.

His eyes formed to slits. “Maybe I will! You’re inconsiderate, you don’t give a damn what happens to you! I don’t even know why I care so much! No one else does!” Hurt flashed through Jace’s eyes, but it was gone in a split-second. Despite having caught it, rage continued to course through Alec’s veins. Here Jace was, acting like he did not care about his own well-being or anyone around him, and yet, at the same time, a pang hit his chest hearing the same words he had wanted to hear. “And you wonder why Clary ditched you?!” There the hurt was blatant. His eyes glazed over and his shoulders dropped, as though he was in disbelief of what was just said. “So go ahead! Go get yourself killed! But don’t expect anyone to care anymore!”

They stood with eyes locked for what seemed to be ages, though it could not have been more than a few seconds. Alec released some of his tension when he saw Jace try to stop his eyebrows from furrowing upwards, creasing his forehead. Realizing that he would not be able to stop himself, Jace shoved past Alec and left the foyer, slamming the door behind him as he walked out into the cool night air, so as not to let anyone see the emotion he always tried so well to hide.

* * *

Jace awoke to a tapping noise echoing in the room. He groaned and sat up, holding his swimming head before his hand went to wrap back around his busted ribcage. He shook his head and pulled his knee up, resting his elbow on it as he looked to his side, staring at what – or who – was causing the noise. His eyes landed on Jonathan, who was sitting in a chair next to the mattress with his legs crossed, palm holding his chin and tapping his foot on the floor. A sly smirk was on his face as he watched the blond.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” Jace looked away as Jonathan sat straight, uncrossing his legs. He pushed the chair back and walked towards Jace, but stopped outside fresh runes written on the ground. Jace looked around him – looked at the runes written in an upside down pentacle around him. His eyes darted around, landing on the book that had earlier been sitting on the table and was now in his rival’s hand. Jonathan crouched down, having Jace bring his eyes to meet his own. “Now, Jace,” he said in a light voice that was oddly disturbing. “I want you to do me a favour.”

The smile he was giving him made chills run up and down Jace’s spine. He was half-tempted to ask what it was he wanted him to do. Instead, his sarcasm chose to present itself, and he responded with;

“Screw you.”

Jonathan only laughed – he just laughed; much like a parental figure would when a child said they could do something the parent very well knew they could not. He shook his head and looked back to Jace. His eyes went dark and his hand whipped towards him, grabbing and pushing down on Jace’s broken rib. Jace released a shout, arms wrapping around his ribcage as he curled and Jonathan retracted his hand; but not before violently grabbing Jace’s arm and pulling him.

“I’m not giving you an option,” he spoke, voice dark as he reached to his belt and unsheathed a blade – the same blade he had taken from the younger male earlier that evening. At least Jace figured it was still night. With no windows, he was not sure how long he had been unconscious.

Jonathan turned Jace’s wrist where his palm was facing up and dug the tip of the blade into Jace’s upper forearm, slicing from next to the median cubital vein down to the cephalic vein in one harsh, rough movement. Jace released a shout as blood poured from his arm. He tried to pull his arm back, but Jonathan just kept his inhuman grip on his wrist, not seeming to release it any time soon. He had taken the blank book and turned Jace’s arm upside down, allowing his blood to drop onto it. Jace could only watch: As his blood touched the binding of the book and seeped onto its pages, words began to form on the cover - _βιβλίο του αίματος_.

Jonathan released Jace’s wrist. Jace immediately jerked his hand back, holding his arm close to his chest, pressing it against his shirt to try to stop the bleeding as he watched the other begin opening the book, shear amusement on his face as he stood, flipping through the now blood-soaked pages. “Simply amazing,” he heard him mutter to himself. He looked up from the book to stare at Jace. “To think that you – _you_ ….” He trailed off, gazing at Jace. His eyes seemed distant, however; not that he was looking _at_ Jace, but rather _into_ him. “ _You are_ ,” he practically whispered, eyes still spaced.

A strange smirk covered his face, which made Jace want to shrink back and run. A look like that never boded well. Trying his best to ignore the pain, Jace staggered to a stand, grabbing at his ribs as he did; blood from his arm dripped onto the mattress. He went to step backwards, but received a painful shock when his foot tried to cross over the inner-boundary of the rune-drawn pentacle. All he could do was watch as Jonathan went back to flipping through the book, eyes darting through the pages like a predator.

“ _Ptósi ángelos_ ,” he spoke.

The moment the words were uttered, the runes surrounding Jace lit a deep red and Jace felt a force pulling him down, forcing him to drop to his knees as he continued to feel as though hands were grabbing him, forcing him down. Eyes shining in fascination, Jonathan spoke again: “ _Stamatísei_.” The feeling of being pulled stopped and Jace tried to regain his stance, having to use most of his strength just to stand back up.

“Wh-What are you doing to me?” Jace asked, voice overflowing with pain, despite trying to hide it and sound strong.

Jonathan stepped back to where he was no longer standing inside the pentacle at all, but rather, right outside of it. “You’re special, Jace,” he said, eyes glowing. “More special than even you know.”


	3. Reminiscent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the language utilized in this chapter is Greek.   
> I do not speak Greek and used a translator.   
> If you speak Greek and find something incorrect,   
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know! (^ ^*)

**3**

**Reminiscent**

Alec shivered, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his faded black hoodie that was a good three sizes too large for his frame. Clouds had started to fill the sky, crossing over the moon, causing a white glow through the translucent cape. The wind blew hard again, forcing the trees to bend and sway, threatening to fall to the ground below; they could be heard cracking under the weight of the wind. Something in the night seemed amiss. However, it was not the weather that made him feel that way: It was the air. Something felt off – felt wrong – as though a terrible storm was to soon be upon them.

The feeling sent a chill down his spine just as he passed the walkway around Cherry Hill. The Bethesda Fountain was in view through the trees and he stopped, staring at it as another gust picked up, causing the lily pads to glide across the water. He recalled being pushed into the water a few weeks prior from a demon that Jace had sworn he had under control. He remembered pulling himself, drenched in cold water, out of the fountain and yelling at Jace, who had taken off down the square and through the same path he stood on, now; the demon trailing close behind him. The memory of watching Jace jump onto one of the tree branches and the demon hitting the tree’s base headfirst entered his mind, making a small smile crawl onto his face. The fight had ended moments after, Jace jumping onto its back and slicing its head clean off. He had sent a cocky grin towards Alec, who just frowned and shook his head.   

A sharp jab to his chest made him cringe at the memory. It was around that time that he had begun to notice a change in Jace’s demeanor – he had started caring about his person less and less and became more reckless. Two weeks after that incident, another fight had gone down in the park, only this time at the south end near Promenade. Jace had seemed distracted the entire day, and when a demon seemed to spawn (out of nowhere, it appeared), Jace’s mind was only halfway involved. The demon’s jagged-ended tail had gone through Jace’s shoulder and broke off, pinning the Shadowhunter to a large oak tree as the poison infected his blood. He had ripped the tail out of his shoulder, returning it to the creature by shoving the pointed-end into its abdomen and infecting it with its own poison; which, oddly enough, it did not appear to be immune to. The black writher demons, which they had later discovered it had been, released a shriek as it “fizzled”.

Alec had to literally carry Jace back to the Institute, even after healing runes had been applied: Jace had just simply passed out on him, refusing to wake up to walk himself back.

It had proved that Jace was able to handle himself, but his will to do so would come and go. Many times, it seemed that Jace had gone out with full intentions of getting himself slain. Alec could remember a time when the younger male had left all of his weaponry behind and gone scouring for a fight. Times occurred when he even refused to have healing runes applied; said he would rather “fight it out” and “deal with the pain.”

He stopped at the fountain’s circle, staring up at the angels that sat on top of it. He could not help but feel as though Jace had been in the same spot not too long ago. He turned to stare past the court and down the path that was lit with only the occasional lamp. Sighing, his feet began dragging him down the path, his shoes scuffing the pavement as the wind blew around him. He stopped short when he thought he saw a figure down the path. He craned his neck, trying to see whether or not it was a person and, if it was, then who it was.

“Hello?” he called. The figure did not move. He stepped into the dim light of a lamp, hoping to get a better view. The figure was in shadow, making it difficult for him to distinguish what (or who) exactly he was staring at. He stepped forward, shoulders tense and hand gripping the hilt of a seraph blade in his pocket. He called out again. However, as he got closer to it, he frowned, a feeling of idiocy washing over him.

It was only a tree – nearly a sapling with a small bush around the base.

Shaking his head, the feeling began to fade as he released the death grip he had on the hilt of the blade. He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms, hugging himself as the wind blew harshly again, nearly knocking him back.

That was when his peripheral vision caught the fluttering movement of an arm. He jerked his head towards the object, eyes landing on a hoodie that seemed to have gotten trapped on a bush after being picked up by the wind. He walked over to it as the arm continued to flutter with the wind, making it appear as though it was waving. He cocked his head. The hoodie seemed strangely familiar, its black colour faded, making it appear almost gray. He looked down at the one he was wearing and uncrossed his arms, pulling the base of the hoodie down and out, inspecting it; he even poked his fingers through a hole on the side of it. He looked back to the hoodie caught on the bush.

It was identical.

There was even a tattered hole in the same place.

He let go of his sweater and grabbed the one off the bush, holding it up in front of him. Even the collar was stretched out and the pockets’ threads were coming loose. He clutched the hoodie, turning his head to look around him.

“Jace?” he called out, though he was unsure why. What puzzled him even more was why he was expecting an answer.

He balled the hoodie and put it under his arm, shoving his hands back into his pockets as he started walking opposite the Institute.

* * *

A knee to the ribs was the response Jace received after cursing his captor. His arms wrapped around his abdomen as he drop to his knees, eyes clenched tight and teeth biting down on his tongue to keep from crying out. Jonathan only crouched down, grabbing the back of Jace’s matted, blonde hair and gripping it tightly, forcing Jace to stare into his eyes – his cruel, stone eyes.

Jace bit back his tongue, allowing Jonathan to pull closer to him. No emotion lay within in eyes; his almost dead, blackened eyes. If Jonathan would move only a bit closer, Jace was sure he would be able to—

Jonathan’s hand arrested his wrist just as Jace’s hand touched the hilt of his seraph blade that was on the older male’s belt. He released Jace’s hair and, faster than he could blink, he had grabbed the blade himself, unsheathed it and sliced Jace across the face, causing blood from his cut cheek to splatter onto the cement floor. Jonathan let go of his wrist when Jace instinctively brought his hand up to cover the fresh wound. The seraph blade’s tip now sat touching the young male’s throat, Jonathan’s hand unmoving. Jace brought his hand down from his face, blood smeared on his face and hand as his eyes trailed to watch Jonathan’s arm cautiously.

He cocked his head to the side, as though he was debating whether or not on what to do. Seeming to change his mind, he stood up; Jace released the breath he had been holding once the blade was gone from his throat. He watched as Jonathan ran his finger down the blood-covered blade and, Jace’s stomach could not help but turn, licked Jace’s blood from his finger.

“Now that you’ve had your bit of fun…,” he trailed off, walking back to the book that sat lying open on the table. He set the blade on the table as he began flipping through the pages, eyes trailing the words on the pages. Jace could only watch him, his movements barred by the pentacle of runes surrounding him. It was apparent that Jonathan was looking for something in particular, but what that was, Jace could not say. He saw the older male release a slight laugh at one page in particular before he continued turning the pages. He stopped a few more pages in and picked up the book, reading the words silently; a smirk tinged his features, his back still to Jace. “It’s time for me to have my fun.”

Jace stared at him quizzically.

“ _Déste ton ángelo_.” Jace pulled back and watched as the runes around him began to glow a faint, blood red. Jonathan turned, then, to face Jace and watch his reaction. His face brightened, seeing the runes glow before him. He brought his eyes back to the book. “ _Daímones tis kólasis. Sas parousiázo aftó to anthrópino-ángelo protoú na kánei me to, ópos tha. Dóste mou ti dýnami na apsifá ton Ángelo kai na molýnoun to ángelos kai óla ósa antiprosopévei_.” As he spoke, Jace began hearing muffled voices around him; the voices were deep, speaking in whispers. He looked up at Jonathan, whose eyes were focused on the words before him, not seeming to hear the voices the Nephilim could – either that or he was ignoring them. “ _Zitó na mou steílete prosopikó sas gia na exagágete to esoterikó ángelos apó aftón ton ánthropo_.” After Jonathan spoke the words, Jace felt hands on him, holding his shoulders and wrapping around him. He jerked, looking around him, but saw nothing. He felt the ghost hands on his neck and face, caressing him; hands on his back, however, felt as though they were digging claws into his skin, forcing him to clench his jaw to hold back a shout. “ _Odigós aftós o ángelos apó ton ouranó gia na to koláseon. Lygíste ton káto ta chéria sas_.”

Suddenly, Jace felt the hands force him onto his back with him fighting, trying to get away. Yet, the hands were too strong and too many. They covered his eyes, making him close them and another set of hands forced his mouth open, entering and pressing down on his tongue. The pain and the weight combined were too much and Jace finally released a yell, a muffled word of “stop”. The runes around him started to glow a deeper shade of red, drenching the male in red light. He felt arms wrap around his abdomen and others touch his legs and push down, forcing him into the cement. He started to thrash violently, trying to get away from what was happening; however, his thrashes went unbothered. He jerked his head to the side, the hands covering his eyes seemed to move away and, when he opened his eyes, he was presented to a large, winged creature mere centimeters away from his face. His breath caught in his throat as the creature leaned closer to him, inspecting him. He clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away, trying to rid the demon from his sight. He could feel its breath on him and, when he opened his eyes again, he was able to see what had been holding him. What appeared to be hundreds of hands were all over him, grabbing his body and holding him back; the hands were coming from a sea – a sea of creatures below him. Creatures with large, black eyes and blue, veined hands and arms were reaching up from below, just to touch him, as though they were trying to see if he was real as he wondered the same about them.

It had to be a trick – a trick of the book Jonathan had been reading from. But when Jace tried to lift his head, the larger creature reached up its massive hand, larger than Jace’s head, and placed it over Jace’s face, obscuring his view and making it to where he could hardly breathe. The smell of rotting flesh filled his nose; the scent coming from the demon itself. Despite wanting to, his entire body seemed paralyzed and he was not even able to release the scream he so much wanted. The demon gripped its hand, making it feel as though it would crush Jace’s skull as though it were crushing an already-cracked egg. It turned his head from side-to-side, scanning him over. Once it seemed through with its inspection, it released Jace’s head, allowing the Nephilim to gasp a breath of air.

The moment his mouth was open and presenting itself, the creatures holding him reached their hands inside his mouth again, trapping it in the wide, open position. He struggled, fighting to get away, but more hands came up, holding his head still. The demon cocked its head, opening its large mouth, presenting three tongues, each a different color: Black, white and red. Jace’s eyes went wide as the creature leaned down, the long, thin, black tongue-like form entered his mouth, passing his uvula and sliding down his throat. Reaction caused him to gag and start coughing, his body trying to reject the alien object. Tears streamed down his face as it continued to slide deeper and deeper into his throat, feeling as though it was slipping into his stomach. He clenched his eyes shut and the demon began extracting its tongue. Once it was out, Jace could not help but open his eyes.

On the tip of the creature’s tongue was a small, white orb, no larger than a pebble. With a curve of its tongue, it crushed the small orb, shattering it into millions of specks that fell onto Jace’s face.

The moment that had happened, the scene around him vanished, bringing him back to lying on the cement floor and Jonathan watching him, eyes looking up from the book. Jace’s heart pounded in his chest as water continued seeping from his ducts and he stared up at the high cement ceiling above. His body shook. Wave after wave hit his body, wracking him nearly senseless. He willed the tears to stop, convincing himself it was only from the shock; but then the scene was gone so suddenly, it had him wonder if it had even happened at all or if was only a figment of his imagination caused by the words Jonathan spewed from the book.

He tried to sit up by rolling onto his side and pushing himself onto all fours; however, his arms wavered as his strength left him and he was left to collapse on his stomach onto the cold floor. That was when his restraint failed him and he released a broken cry – a mixture between a yell and a sob as he called out for one person:

“Al-ec,” he spoke in broken words, “ple-ase…. I – I can’t….”

His breath hitched as he opened his eyes to see shoes standing in front of him. The red glow from the runes had died out and, once again, Jonathan was standing next to him before crouching down, the book in his hand on his lap. “You can’t what, Jace?” he asked, bringing his hand to run through the Jace’s matted blonde hair. Jace wanted to respond, but his mind fought, deciding that it was not worth another attack to his body; what he did find was that he hated himself for finding the soft touch of Jonathan’s fingers moving through his hair to be soothing. Jonathan bent his neck down, folding his abdomen over his legs as he looked Jace in the face. “Can’t truly fend for yourself? Can’t admit that you’re pathetic?” he pulled up, still continuing to run his hand through Jace’s hair. “Can’t deny that you are weak?” A pondering look washed over his face. “Or is that you can’t tell him? That you can’t tell him you really do need him and his rooks to protect you? Tell me Jace: what is it you _can’t_ do?” He looked back down at the younger male.

Jace stayed silent, though hundreds of thoughts were shooting across his mind. His eyes still burned, but the water falling from them finally ceased; which made him retain at least some of his dignity – or so that was how he felt.

“Hm…no answer?” Jace bit his tongue to keep from responding. “Well, then, Jace. Let _me_ tell you what you can’t you, shall I? You can’t protect yourself – at least not from me, anyway. But what you are is so much better.  You _are_ nothing more than a worthless Nephilim that no one cares about. You _are_ weak and worthless. Face it: If it wasn’t for the fact that the Lightwoods felt obligated to take care of you, you’d already be dead and lying in a ditch with some worthless demon devouring your flesh and bones.”

As he spoke, Jace heard whispers around him; indistinguishable whispers that echoed in his ears. His mind started drifting and his eyes became distant as he stared straight ahead of him, absorbing the other’s words. In his mind, he recalled the day Clary left – when he had gone to check on her and all of her belongings were arranged in a neatly packed suitcase, her room barren; when she apologized and said that things have changed, that they had gotten older and matured; when she said that even she could tell distance had started to grow between them. And that it was painful for her to stay, realizing what was happening – that she could not be around him anymore because of that reason. She did not say where she was going, but she had left with Simon and her mother, her back being the last thing he had seen. She did not even look back: That innate sense where humans look back instinctively when they walk away to make sure the one they care about is okay did not even seem to come to her.

“But here, Jace, here with me”—Jonathan peered down at Jace, his expression strangely soft, changing his demeanor—“you are special…and you are useful. Unlike the people you care about on the outside that won’t return your sentiment, I will.”

Jonathan’s words seemed nearly hollow as more memories flooded Jace’s mind, dragging him back. His mind flooded with images of the people around him passing him without even acknowledging him; people avoiding him, knowing the pain he was going through, not wanting to get involved. The most recent memory of his fight with Alec came back into his head:

“ _I don’t…care so much. No one else does_.”

A sharp pain shot through his chest and the tears that he thought he had stopped came rushing back, falling sideways down the bridge of his nose and onto the floor.  

“Here, I can show you your potential and protect you from whatever might try to take it.”

Jace shut his eyes, allowing himself to be soothed by Jonathan’s words and motions; the soft tenderness of his hand running through his hair and odd, gentle speech. Whispers continued to echo around him and, in the darkness of his mind, he could see himself standing in the darkness alone as those that he cared about walked away; their backs being the last thing he saw. 

* * *

_**Translations (Greek → English)**  
_

_Ptósi ángelos._ \- Fall angel.

 _Stamatísei._ \- Stop _._

 _Déste ton ángelo._ \- Bind the angel.

_Daímones ton Kólasi. - Demons of Hell._

_Sas parousiázo aftó to anthrópino-ángelo protoú na kánei me to, ópos tha. -_ I present this human-angel before you to do with as you will.

 _Dóste mou ti dýnami na apsifá ton Ángelo kai na molýnoun to ángelos kai óla ósa antiprosopévei. -_ Give me the strength to defy the Angel and damn the angel and everything it stands for.

 _Zitó na mou steílete prosopikó sas gia na exagágete to esoterikó ángelos apó aftón ton ánthropo. -_ I ask them to send me your servants to extract the angel inside of this man.

 _Odigós aftós o ángelos apó ton ouranó gia na to koláseon. -_ Guide this angels from the Heavens to the Hells.

 _Lygíste ton káto ta chéria sas. -_ Bend down your hands. _  
_


	4. Extraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand~   
> the introduction of Alec and Magnus being cute together enters!

**4**

**Extraction**

“I can’t make promises that anything will happen.”

Alec’s eyes traced the floor as Magnus stood not more than three feet away, his hand on the sweater that was lying on a wooden pedestal. He was watching the Shadowhunter, eyes remorseful when he saw the disappointment flooding his counterpart’s face. He released a sigh, shaking his head and drawing Alec’s attention.

“I’m not saying I won’t give it a shot, you know.” Alec’s eyes brightened, causing Magnus to return the sentiment.

Alec bit the inside of his lower lip before replying, “Thank you.”

Magnus shrugged and closed his eyes, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. He turned to the sweater and opened it up to where it was draping off of the stand. As he grabbed a small, clear crystal that sat on the table pushed against the wall next to him, he looked to Alec; he was watching the sweater, mind obviously somewhere else as they drifted off. He set the item on the center of the sweater, it beginning to glow a very soft purple, casting a purple stain on the surrounding objects. Alec seemed to have returned to his right mind, whereas he shook his head and stared intently at the glowing crystal.

“Why’s it…glowing?” he asked, looking to Magnus, who had gone back to working with the sweater.

He picked it back up, allowing it to dangle from its chain as it reflected the purple glow on his face. “Mundane interference,” he responded with a shrug. Alec looked at him curiously. “It has a mundane chemical on it – that’s all,” he responded to the unasked question.

“Anyway to tell what?”

At this, Magnus laughed, as though what Alec had asked had been a joke. He smirked, making eye contact. “You have little faith in my abilities, don’t you, Alec?” Alec frowned, crossing his arms as he raised an eyebrow. “And, not to sound cocky, but you should be the last person that thinks that.”

His smirk grew wider and he laughed when he noticed that the other’s face was starting turn a slight shade of red. He always seemed to enjoy embarrassing the younger male one way or another. He focused back on the crystal a bit too soon, whereas a small, white candle hit him in the head the moment he had turned away. He looked at Alec in disbelief, but quickly changed his look and moved out of the way just as another one came flying his direction. It hit the wall and fell onto the table.

“I have an arsenal over here, just to let you know,” Alec said, watching Magnus crouch down; a nervous smile on his face.

“You’d break all of my candles just over that?” He pulled his hands over his head as two more came his direction – one hit the floor next to him and the other hit him in the back. “But Alec….” He paused, as did the pelting; though he was sure that Alec was quite ready with another one in his hand. Though the young Shadowhunter would verbally deny it, everyone knew that their small, playful quarrels were one of the things both of them enjoyed. Magnus stood, straightening out his midnight blue shirt, having some of the gold glitter that traced it fall onto the floor. He looked to Alec, who, sure enough, was holding a set of four candles. “I can always refresh your memory, if you’ve forgotten.”

And there it went.

Next thing Magnus knew, he was berated with white candles. He laughed, catching one right before it hit his head. “Must you always be so flippant?” Alec asked, stopping his attacks and crossing his arms again; despite a small smirk tingeing his face, he continued to try and force the frown. “Come on. I need you to be serious for a second.”

Magnus exhaled, tossing the candle he had caught back to Alec, who caught it and set it back on the table behind him. “All right, all right.” He turned his back to Alec, rummaging around through the items on the table next to him. He pulled out a small book from under a stack of other books, careful not to make them fall. He laid it open and Alec craned his neck to see what he was looking at. He walked up behind him, standing next to him and looking down at the book as Magnus set the still-glowing crystal next to it. The moment the crystal was down next to the book, the pages flipped themselves open, stopping on a page near the beginning. On the page were a list of chemicals, all starting with ‘c’ sorted alphabetically, but only one was casting the same glow as the crystal.

Magnus furrowed his brow; Alec’s eyes were almost wide.

“Chloroform?” he asked, looking to Magnus, whose face was stern.

“Alec...we may have a problem.” 

* * *

Blood trailed down Jace’s side, dripping down his leg and forming a pool beneath his feet that were dangling above the floor where Jonathan had him held by his throat. He grabbed onto Jonathan’s forearm, trying to pull up and lift himself, so as to relieve some of the pressure cutting his breath short. He clenched his eyes shut and released a stifled grunt as Jonathan pressed the blade between his ribs, slowly sliding up and into the young Shadowhunter. He pulled it out just as slowly, it coated in the other’s blood.

“Did he ever teach out how to cut someone forty-two times without touching anything vital?” Jonathan asked, referring to Valentine, as he leaned close to Jace’s ear. The response he received was a muffled groan. “I didn’t think so,” he whispered before releasing him and letting Jace crumple to the ground.

He turned, walking out of the pentacle and back to the book that was lying face-open on the floor. He picked it up, his back to Jace, as he turned a few pages – the blade he was holding dripped blood onto the floor. Jace put his palms face down on the cement, trying to push himself up; he had to stifle a cry that was begging to be released when pain shot through his body, sending electric jolts to his ribs in particular. With his body weakening from the constant blood loss, his muscles were becoming more difficult to control, whereas they wanted to fail him with every move that he made. He took a breath, mustering up all of his strength just to force himself to stand. When he managed to get to his feet, he stumbled slightly, causing his arm to cross the diagram: He released a shout when it burned him and he immediately jerked his arm back, holding the now-singed skin.

Jonathan did not even seem to pay heed, his mind focusing on the book in his hands.

Jace wiped at his face, unaware that he had tears running down his face and mistaking it for blood from the cuts. Jonathan turned the page, muttering, “ _Exousíes tou daímones, kaló kai páli._ ” The runes began glowing again and Jace’s heart jumped to his throat – it did not bode well. _“Sas díno aftó ángelos metamfiesménos se ánthropo. Deíxte tou to esoterikó fos tou._ ”

The same deep, muffled voices from earlier echoed around him and Jace grunted as he felt hands on his shoulders, holding him. What felt like claws dug into his back, tearing down the length of his shoulder blades; as they cut into him, he could feel the warmth of blood trailing down his back and he clenched his eyes shut, using his strength to keep him standing.

Once equal slices were down his back, the pressure of hands subsided, allowing Jace to relax his muscles; that was until those same hands seem to shove themselves into the freshly made cuts. His eyes shot open and he held back a yell as the muscles on his back felt as though they were being ripped apart, splitting down his shoulder blades as the hands continued to dig.  

“ _Apeleftheróste to esoterikó Ángelo. Mésa apó ton potamó tou aímatos kai na perásei sto Dimarcheío tis Martýrio, férte mou ton Ángelo_ ,” he said, finally turned to face Jace, his eyes a hollow black.

The more Jonathan spoke the words from the book, the deeper the pain became. Jace could feel his bones crack under the pressure, and the voices around him became louder – as though he was surrounded and they were chanting around him over and over.

Seeing him still resisting, Jonathan’s eyes became dark and he spoke in thick tongue, “ _Katastrépste athoótita aftoú tou anthrópou kai na ton férei sta gónatá tou_.”

Jace bent his knees, trying to hold his ground as the feeling of hands pushing on his shoulders tried to force him to the ground. He ignored the pain that shot through his abdomen as he tried resisting, his shoulders cracking under the invisible weight.

“ _Afíste aftó na eínai katadikasméni ángelos_!”

Jace could no longer resist the pressure or the pain and released a blood-curdling scream that bounced off of the cement walls as he collapsed to the floor on his hands and knees. The cracking continued to erupt from his back, louder and louder; nearly as loud as the chants that surrounded him. He could feel his muscles, nerves and skin rip open on his back, blood trailing down his sides inside his shirt and forming a dark pool on the front of his black shirt as Jonathan continued to spout more words that the Shadowhunter could not understand. Tears poured down his face, falling onto the floor and he started to shout for Jonathan to stop, his voice pleading with his tormentor. His back continued to split at the shoulder blades as Jonathan continued reading from the book, sadistic amusement clear on his face.

“ _Ischýs ton Agíon. Ischýs ton koláseon. Paroúsa aftón ton ángelo mou. Doreán ta fterá tou_.”

Jace tried to grab at something, anything, to help relieve the pain; but there was nothing close to him. He shouted, voice shaking violently. The runes that surrounded the floor around him were glowing a bright, but deep, blood-red and he the other voices – deeper voices – spoke loud whispers around him, chanting ‘ _apeleftheróste’_ repeatedly. The more voices that he could hear, the brighter the runes glowed, drenching him in bloodstained light. The voices became louder, no longer just whispers, and they drowned out Jonathan’s voice as he kept reading. He could feel weight on him and hands holding him as his back split further and further. He released another shattered scream as he felt the hands dig even deeper into the splits in his back, digging around inside him, before he felt them grab hold of bones inside him; or, at least, he figured them to be bones. His screams became louder and more violent when they started to pull on what they had grabbed; his back feeling as though it was being broken and bones were being ripped out. As hands held him down, the ones inside him started pulling harder, pulling out their hold through the tears running down both of his shoulder blades.

The closer they got to their extraction, the harder they pulled.

“ _Férte ta se ména!!"_

In one harsh jerking movement, they pulled out their hold, causing Jace to release one final scream as blood-drenched white wings flew straight out from his back, ripping through his shirt and rising nearly to the ceiling. The feeling of hands vanished and he collapsed to the floor, shaking, as the red glow of the runes slowly died.

Tears continued to fall from his eyes onto the floor as the wings came and folded themselves over him, blocking his view to where, the only thing he could see, was the blurred figure of Jonathan standing outside the circle of runes where he had been. The book he had been reading from was now closed and hung in his hand at his side. Loose, white feathers fell onto the floor around him, some of them splotched with red. His body continually twitched and jerked as the pain started to subside. Blood from his shoulder blades still trickled down his back; a stream had run over his shoulder and could be seen running down his right arm, making a small pool on the floor.

Jonathan crossed the threshold of the runes, crouching down next to Jace and running his hands along the bone of the wings, before bringing his hand to set it on the side of Jace’s head.

“I knew you were strong,” he said softly. Hating himself for thinking it, Jace could not help but feel soothed by the gentleness from Jonathan’s hand as it began lightly running through his hair and the soothing tone to his voice. “You’ll do great things, Jace.” Jace shut his eyes, his body pleading for the soft and gentle touch to continue; his mentality, even more. He felt Jonathan’s free hand on the base of the wings, massaging the tender skin around in softly. His body began sinking into the ground, fatigue swarming over him. “And don’t worry. I will protect you from death…unless you beg for it. And that, _my angel_ , is a promise.”

Perhaps his mentality was warped from the occurrence, but Jace’s entire body screamed to be comforted; and he did not very much care who he received it from.

* * *

_**(Translation Greek → English)** _

Exousíes tou Kólasi, kaló kai páli - Power of Hell, I call to you again

Sas díno aftó ángelos metamfiesménos se ánthropo.- I give you this angel disguised as a man.

Deíxte tou to esoterikó fos tou. - Show him his inner light.

Apeleftheróste to esoterikó Ángelo. - Release the inner Angel.

Mésa apó ton potamó tou aímatos kai na perásei sto Dimarcheío tis Martýrio, férte mou ton Ángelo. - Through the River of Blood and Hall of the Martyr, bring me the Angel.

Katastrépste athoótita aftoú tou anthrópou kai na ton férei sta gónatá tou. - Destroy this man's innocence and bring him to his knees.

Afíste aftó na eínai katadikasméni ángelos! - Let this angel be condemned!

Ischýs ton Agíon. - Powers of the Saints.

Ischýs ton Daímones. - Power of the Demons.

Paroúsa aftón ton ángelo mou. - I present to you this angel.

Doreán ta fterá tou. - Free his wings.

Férte ta se ména! - Bring them to me!


	5. Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why,  
> but I always saw Magnus and Alec having a very playful relationship.  
> What with Magnus being the reason Alec started to become more comfortable with himself and all.

**5**

**Summoning**

Alec shuffled around the room with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, his shoes scraping the marble floor in the Hall of Magnus’s abode. He pulled his head up to look at Magnus, who was busily drawing a diagram in the middle of the room, his concentration fully focused. Alec’s eyes trailed the outline of the circular diagram – its complex form nearly carved into the marble with lines scribbled every so often through shapes. He brought his attention to the large, arc-shaped windows; the moon was large in the sky and trees could still be seen swaying violently. He felt a sharp jab in his chest and shook his head, pulling his attention back to Magnus who finally released a breath of air and sat back on his heels, staring at the complete diagram.

“That should be about right,” Magnus said, standing up and dusting his hands off on his pants; specks of silver glitter fell to the floor and he stepped back, nodding his head in satisfaction. He moved a white crystal into place at the corner he stood at, it being the fourth one he had since laid down, evenly spaced between three others. He looked to Alec, who was staring at the diagram with blank eyes, mind obviously drifting. “Alec?” he asked, but the young Shadowhunter was unresponsive. He furrowed his eyebrows and walked around the diagram to stand next to his partner. He set his hand on Alec’s shoulder before saying again, “Alec.” Alec shook his head, jerking out of his thoughts and looked at Magnus. “It’s gonna work.” Alec only nodded, eyes trailing back to the shape in front of him; Magnus gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “You trust me, right?” Alec nodded. “You know I wouldn’t do anything that would risk harm to you or Jace, so relax. This _will_ work.”

Alec turned his head to face Magnus, his eyebrows furrowed upwards, creasing his brow line as his eyes glazed over. “Then why do I have such a horrible feeling?”

Magnus sighed. “It’s probably just your nerves. You’ve never done anything like this before; and you still don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He watched as Alec’s jaw tensed and he looked back to the diagram, obviously contemplating. They waiting in silence for a few moments before Alec shook his head, pulling his gaze back to the warlock before him.

“I have to know.”’

Magnus nodded at the response. He released a breath of air and patted Alec on the back. “All right.” Alec’s heart seemed to pound violently in his chest, he could swear that Magnus could hear it, as well. “Well, go ahead and stand in the center.” Alec nodded an okay and took a step into the diagram, his body tensing when he felt Magnus’s hand leave his shoulder. “And don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen.”

Alec inhaled deeply before looking over his shoulder to Magnus, a nervous smile on his face. “I know you won’t. There’d be too many people lined up to kill you if you did.” Magnus laughed, which caused a legit smile to make it to Alec’s face as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t remind me.”

Alec shook his head and walked to the middle of the drawn diagram. Magnus took another white crystal from his pocket before looking back to Alec, making eye contact and nodding. Alec shut his eyes and took in a deep breath as Magnus bent down to set the fifth crystal into place, causing a silvery-white shield to enclose the diagram around the Shadowhunter. All five crystals radiated a soft white glow. Alec felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and chill bumps raise on his arms.

Suddenly, Alec released a gasp as he felt his body jerk, landing himself in a long hallway full of closed doors towards an open door at the end, light shining from the cracked door. His breath was quick from the unexpected jerk and he looked behind him; no longer was he in sight of Magnus’s Hall. He brought his eyes back to the front and inhaled, taking a step forward. His fingers trailed along the wall as he cocked his head. He felt something brush against his back, but when he jumped and spun around, the only thing he saw was the blackened hallway. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned back, calling out, trying to get a response, but there was no reply. He called out again, this time for Jace, but, still, there was nothing. Finally, he stood outside of the door. Taking a deep breath, he put his palm on the cracked door and pushed it open. The moment the door was open, he was engulfed in bright, white light. He gasped from surprise – now standing in a solid white room with nothing but light around him. He heard voices echo around him and he spun around, only to see nothing but light that trailed forever onwards.

“Jace?”

 _Alec, please,_ he heard whisper and he jerked around again.

Still, he stood alone. His heart jumped to his throat and he swallowed hard as he began walking around in the white light. Another voice echoed around him, this time, though familiar, he could not place it.

_You are my angel; and only I can protect you._

Alec stopped when he saw a white feather float down. Holding out his hand, landed in his palm and he could only stare at it, inspecting it: Its soft features, the purity of it. He looked up when he saw another feather fall to the ground from his peripheral vision and watched as more feathers began falling from an unknown source, surrounding him and falling around him. As he continued to stare up, he felt a drop of wetness land on his cheek. He flinched slightly when it hit, but then brought up his hand to wipe the liquid away with his index finger. Out of reflex, he went to look at the water droplet he had just wiped away, only to find that it was not a clear droplet, but a droplet of dark red.

_Blood?_

He felt another drop on his face, this time it ran down his cheek. He brought his hand down and jerked his head around, watching as more blood began to fall, falling like rain. The red started mixing in with the white of the feathers, drenching them – coating their purity. He opened his palm, bringing his gaze back to the feather he held and watching as the raining blood made it thickly coated. He gripped the feather tightly, wanting to protect it from the tainting rain.

That was when he heard his name again and he pulled his eyes away, trying to find the speaker. They called for him again, only this time, they yelled his name. His heart pounded violently in his chest and he found himself clutching the feather close to his chest, not wanting anyone to take it away.

* * *

“ALEC!!”

His eyes shot open and he found himself on the marble floor in Magnus’s Hall with Magnus leaning over him, one hand on his shoulder and other on his face as terrified eyes stared down at him. Magnus’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned back as Alec sat up. The young Shadowhunter groaned as he held his head. “What happened?” he asked, voice groggy.

“I don’t know. You started seizing, so I…cut it short.” He glanced over at the edge of the diagram. One of the crystals had been kicked out of the way, breaking the barrier to allow him access. He sighed. “What did you see?” he asked, looking at Alec with strange sympathy.

Alec shook his head as he pulled his knees up to set his forearms upon them. “I – I’m not really sure.” Magnus tilted his head. “It was just…white.” Alec let his head fall back so he was able to stare at the high ceiling above. “I kept hearing Jace’s voice and…someone else.”

“Someone else?”

Alec shrugged. “They sounded familiar, but I couldn’t tell you why. And then there were feathers: White feathers, falling.”

At this, Magnus stared at him intently, as though contemplating what it meant. “In the light?”

Alec nodded, bringing his head back down to stare at the floor in front of him. “And blood.” That was when he looked to Magnus’s face and saw a near-horrified expression; an expression he never thought he would ever see on his partner’s face. “So much blood – like rain, almost.” He watched as Magnus broke their eye contact, his eyes now searching the floor in front of him, absorbing the information. “I heard someone say “angel” and Jace…crying? No.” He shook his head. “Jace doesn’t cry. But then…what—” He stopped short when he saw a look mixed with fear and sorrow flooding Magnus’s features. Alec’s face overcame with concern. “Magnus?”

“Alec….” Magnus’s eyes began to glaze over, which only received a deeper look from the Shadowhunter. “You said feathers. Pure. White. Feathers,” he spoke in nearly a whisper, his voice sounding as though it was quivering. “Like…angel feathers?”

Alec nodded slowly, keeping their eyes locked, trying to read what Magnus’s was trying to tell him. “Why?” he asked, eyeing him.

“Alec,” he started again. “What are you holding?” he asked, still keeping their eyes together. Alec looked at him curiously, but finally broke his gaze away to look at his hand; bloodstains were on the outside of his clenched fist and he turned his hand over, slowly opening his palm to reveal a blood-drenched, white feather lying in his palm.

* * *

“How _dare_ you call out for him!” Jonathan shouted as he brought his leg back and gave another harsh kick to Jace’s abdomen.

Jace could not hold back and released a shout when he felt his already-cracked-ribs break under the pressure. He collapsed, body shaking and quivering from the pain. Jonathan leaned down and grabbed a fistful of Jace’s hair, pulling his head up; he stood, dragging the Nephilim with him and forcing Jace to his feet. From reflex, Jace’s left hand latched on to Jonathan’s forearm while his other hand grabbed onto the other’s shoulder. Jonathan’s eyes were narrowed as he watched the other struggle to put up a meager fight. His eyes darted when Jace’s newly-released wings stretched up and folded back in, twitching with the rest of his body. He brought his gaze back to Jace’s face.

“Tell me, Jace. Do they hurt?” he asked, a strange smirk on his face. When all he got in response was a drowned, gargled groan, the smirk fell from his face and he tossed back Jace’s head, making the younger male stumbled backwards, trying to keep inside the still-drawn pentacle. His arms wrapped around his stomach and he dropped to his knees, face contorted in agony; which was why he failed to notice Jonathan standing over him, his face flooded with anger. He grabbed a fistful of feathers from Jace’s wings and pulled them across the threshold, jerking Jace and forcing them to burn. Jace’s eyes flew open and he could only stare up, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the pain that ensued – pain that he had never even imagined possible. They were far more sensitive than he could ever think and he finally released a scream from his throat as he watched the wing – his own wing – being burned outside of the pentacle. The feathers singed, Jonathan released his grip and the wing shot back into the pentagram, both wings wrapping themselves around Jace, shielding him from Jonathan’s view as he tried to bite back broken cries. Jace touched the now-burnt wing, flinching as his fingers ran down the feathers – his feathers.

He found it strange: It was as though the wings had a mind of their own. They sensed everything he did and would heed his subconscious commands, even when he was unaware of what they were. He set his face against it, hugging it as water splashed onto it, thankful for the soft touch pressed against his cheek. He shut his eyes, savoring every moment of comfort before he would be dragged back into the harsh reality.

The comfort was shorter than he had hoped.

His wings shifted and folded back behind him, as though they were cowering from the demon-child before them. Jonathan stepped back into the diagram and grabbed Jace’s chin, forcing him to stare into his eyes. “Tell me what it’s like,” he started, digging his nails into the other’s cheek. “Tell me what it’s like to be completely worthless and pathetic.” Jace released a grunt. “What was that?” he asked, a dark smirk twisted onto his face.

Jace tensed up, glowering eyes staring back. “I said: You talk too much.”

Jonathan’s eyes flashed and he brought up his knee, shoving it into Jace’s ribcage. He stepped back, allowing Jace to fall, face contorted in agony. “I was going to let you enjoy these a little longer,” he said, grabbing the middle of the wing bone and pulling it, forcing it to stretch out. Jace extended his arm grabbing onto Jonathan’s pant leg, trying to pull himself up and make the other release him. “But since you’re so ungrateful,” he continued, voice laced with fury and annoyance as he gripped the wing bone with both hands, “you don’t deserve to.”

He brought up a bent knee and, in one foul move, pulled it down, forcing the bone to snap in half over his upper leg.

Jace’s eyes shot wide and his mouth fell open as he stared in front of him, pain searing through the wing and radiating down his back. A moment of a silent scream passed before his throat gave way and the silent scream was replaced with one that was ear-shattering. He fell onto his stomach as the now-broken wing hung loosely and fell next to him; tears poured down his face as he tried to inhale and get a breath in, which, in turn, resulted with him hyper-ventilating. The broken wing twitched, trying to move.

Jonathan brought up his foot and set it on the base of the wing where it was attached to Jace’s back and stepped on it, making it bend down, flush against the other’s back. Jace began clawing at the cement floor, nails scraping and breaking off as he tried to get away from the pain. Jonathan took his foot back and Jace released hollow cries from the pit of his throat as his hand reached out to grab Jonathan’s leg.

“I’m s – sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered, breaths hitching in his throat. He pulled himself forward enough to set his forehead on the other’s lower leg. “I won’t…anymore. Just stop.”

Jonathan’s face softened as he peered down at the pleading male. “Don’t worry, Jace. It’ll all be over soon enough.”

* * *

“I _fail_ to see how this is a good idea,” Alec said, his arms crossed as he looked at Magnus.

“It’s simple, really. What better way to find him than to get the best thing for the job?”

Alec frowned, clearly not amused. The feather from early sat on a table next to Magnus, its purpose stated earlier. The same diagram from early was still drawn on the marble, now with only few modifications to create it for a different purpose. Magnus turned away from Alec, opening a book that sat on the table and turning to a particular page – a page with a familiarly sketched creature on it. Alec clicked his tongue and turned away, wishing to not be a part of what was about to happen; but if it would find Jace, he would try anything. He nodded his head at his own thoughts and looked back at Magnus, who was reading over the page.

“This should work,” he muttered to himself. He brought up his hand and snapped his fingers, lighting the three candles that had taken place of the crystals from earlier. Alec uncrossed his arms, glancing from the warlock to the diagram. “Granted, I’ve never summoned one of these things before,” he said, again muttering to himself. Alec stared at him in disbelief. “But it should be fine.” He turned to face the diagram and clapped his hands, rubbing them together, as though he were a child getting ready to do something devious. He cleared his throat and began reciting from the book:

“‘ _Demon of the fortnight, I claim “your Master”. Enter this realm to heed my word._ ’”

The diagram released a soft blue glow. The floor in the center seemed to fall away, falling into another dimension. Alec watched as a loud screech was heard from the now-gaping-hole and Magnus began speaking in another tongue. As he continued to say the same thing over and over, a creature began clawing its way out. Alec took a step back as the ravener demon crawled its way out of the hole. As it came out, the floor returned back to its original state as the demon began clicking its way, trying to exit the diagram. It hit an invisible barrier and began opening and closing its jagged-toothed mouth. Alec swallowed hard, eyes not breaking away.

Magnus grabbed the feather off of the table and tossed it into the diagram. Almost in an instant, the ravener demon attacked it.

“You’ve had your taste,” he said, standing straight. “Find the one it came from and I can promise you more.”

Alec made a quick glance from Magnus to the demon. With another wave of his hand, the candles blew out, emitting gray streams of smoke. The demon bent its insect-like legs and jumped onto the wall from where it had been; now being able to exit the diagram. It scurried across the wall, heading to the Hall doors and exiting through them. Magnus turned to Alec and flashed a toothy smile.

“I suggest we follow it before it’s out of sight.”

Alec watched Magnus pass him and walk towards the doors. He shook his head, still disbelieving what they were resorting to. “You’re mad, Magnus – completely mad.” He walked up to him as the other just nodded.

“Fully aware of that aspect, my dear boy! Now, let’s get going, or that thing’s gonna eat your best friend when it finds him.” Alec stared at him in shock as Magnus just laughed and left the Hall, following the path the demon had gone with Alec cursing at him as he followed suit.


	6. Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay,  
> due to two people's encouragement (mo and Loustat),  
> I've decided to continue uploading. 
> 
> Honestly,  
> I should not have to be DELETING COMMENTS that are cursing at me.  
> Be an adult. I'm almost thirty and don't have time for such nonsense.  
> If you have nothing nice, just bite off.

**6**

**Submission**

The right wing wound itself around Jace, covering him and shielding him from Jonathan’s view as the stub of what was left from the left wing twitched, dripping blood onto the concrete. It moved feebly, sending shock after shock through Jace’s shoulders and spine. His face flooded with pain as he clutched onto the feathers of the wing, trying to avoid staring at the floor where hundreds of bloody, fallen feathers laid. He pressed his forehead against the wing, a wave of nausea running through him when he kept realizing that all of the blood in the room had come from him. His head was spinning and he continued to inhale deeply, trying to calm his fast-paced heart.

The wing suddenly jerked itself away, shifting and folding back behind him as Jonathan stepped to the edge of the pentacle again. He felt the wing quiver, obviously feeling terror from the other body. No longer having the wing blocking his view, his stomach turned twice-over seeing the shreds of his left wing scattered over the room; the tip of the wing was closest to the wall opposite of him, splattered with blood as feathers lay around it. Other pieces of the wing littered the ground, leaking pools of blood that coated the cement. Acid found its way to his throat and he could no longer control his muscles.

His arm wrapped around his stomach as his other arm supported him from falling onto the floor as his muscles contracted and he spit bile onto the floor. The action caused his stomach to sear with pain as the muscles pushed against his wounded abdomen. Never before had he been so disgusted that it caused him to literally vomit; but then, never before had he witnessed his own body parts being destroyed like mere objects; and never before had he been so tortured and helpless.

_Helpless_.

That word echoed in his head and a sharp jab pierced his chest.

That was it.

He had never been completely helpless before. So many times he had thought he had gone searching for Death, but never truly – he always had people with him; supporting him; _helping_ him.

But now?

Not now.

Now he was on his own; for the very first time, there was no one that even cared. Not even….

_Alec_.

It took him a moment to realize, but, at the thought of Alec, and seeing him in his memory, Jace had tears falling from his eyes to the floor, mixing into the bile.

Jonathan crossed the threshold and placed the tip of his shoe underneath Jace’s chin, lifting his head up from facing the floor. The same sadistic smirk was twisted onto his face, his eyes sending Jace’s heart into overdrive.

“What makes you cry, Jace?” he asked with faked sincerity. He shifted and put his foot on Jace’s chest, pushing him and making him sit back on his knees, his arms hanging loosely by his side. He bent down to a crouch, setting his elbows on his knees as he peered into Jace’s face. The way Jonathan was able to switch his demeanor from sadistic and uncaring to strange concern had Jace feeling uneasy, his throat tightening into a hard knot as he failed to avoid eye contact. “I’d say ‘tears aren’t suited to your face’, but”—he outstretched he hand to touch Jace’s cheek, stroking it with an odd softness with his thumb—“I’d be lying. Nothing’s more beautiful than a broken angel.”

“Alec...help me....”

A hand across his face was the response to his plea, having him nearly fall backwards with a fresh, bright red hand print on the side of his face under his eye. He clenched his jaw, avoiding looking at his captor, even if that meant staring at the butchered remains of his wing littering the ground.

“Stop calling for him; he doesn't give a bloody hell what happens to you. No one does.”

Once again, the runes began to emit a soft red light and Jace heard voices echoing around him. He clamped his eyes shut, trying to shut them out as images filled his mind. Again, he saw everyone pass by him without looking back, watching their backs fade away into the blackness surrounding him. He then saw himself and Clary in a heated argument: Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides as she yelled at him for being cold and uncaring; his response that she was right; her bringing up her hand and slapping him across the face. She called him an obscenity and stormed off. He recalled that – it had happened a month before she had left.

Seeing the memory playing out like a film, his chest tightened.

He found himself sitting on his knees with his broken and bleeding body and wings, alone in the darkness, his eyes red and puffy as dried saltwater stained his cheeks. He heard footsteps echo behind him. He turned his head to see Alec walk passed; when his ally did not even look down at him, he reached his hand out to grab onto Alec’s shirt, but the moment his hand came in contact with the other, the apparition jerked away and twisted around to stare at Jace – a look of shear disgust twisted on his face. Jace’s eyebrows furrowed upwards as the image spat: “Don’t touch me!”

“Alec…,” he drew out softly, his eyes glazing over.

“You’re pathetic, Jace. No one cares about you,” he spoke, taking another step further away from the broken angel. “If someone like Clary couldn't deal with you, why would you think I'd be so willing? Why don’t you just stop your worthless excuse for a life? Here you are, an angel, and you still can’t do a damn thing worthwhile.” He scoffed as he turned away from the tearful Shadowhunter, fading into the surrounding blackness, the echo of his footsteps disappearing.

“ _You’re alone, Jace_ ,” Jonathan’s voice echoed around him, mixing in with the other voices – the indistinguishable voices.

Jace laid down, his body curling into the fetal position as the still-whole-wing wrapped around him, covering him in soft whiteness, feeling his pain and trying to give him comfort; but it did nothing to ease the pain – and not just the physical aspect. His mind and body both broken….

The darkness that was surrounding him faded, dragging him back to the blood-drenched room and sending him back to Jonathan’s view. The wing laid itself down, covering him as though it were a blanket, but his body had started to become numb, and he was unable to feel the softness of the feathers pressed against his bare flesh. His body wracked with fatigue, his will to keep up a fight faded and he found himself begging in his mind, begging for the pain to stop. Finally, his throat spoke what his mind was contemplating.

“Please,” Jace’s said quietly, his body shaking. The stub of his wing twitched and Jonathan brought his eyes down, staring intently at the broken angel, wondering as though he heard wrong. “Please,” Jace reiterated. “No more,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes, dropping onto the floor, knowing what he was about to do. Jonathan only watched him – watched as Jace’s broken body continued to quiver, despite his eyes staring blankly in front of him. “Let me die. Please, Jonathan. Just let me die.”

Jonathan’s face softened somewhat and he approached Jace, crouching down next to him. He put his hand under Jace’s chin and lifted his head off of the cement, staring into the Shadowhunter’s nearly-dead eyes. “Whatever you say, my angel. Whatever you say.”

* * *

Alec frowned as they approached a weather-beaten, rundown house outside of Queens. The house was dark, most of the windows were broken and even part of the roof had caved in; however long ago, he did not care to know. No glamour hid the house: It was just as they saw it, the moonlight bathing it in silver light, casting dark shadows on the ground. The ravener demon was scurrying up and around the front of the house, sniffing anything and everything around it before it slipped into one of the busted out windows. Magnus set his hand on the post to the metal, chain-linked fence that surrounded the yard; the front gate sat wide open, rust eating away at it, created large holes in its security.

The wind blew violently, forcing thick branches of the tree in the yard to bend under its weight and tearing still-green leaves from it.

“Here?” Alec asked rhetorically as they crossed the threshold into the yard, stepping and walking towards the boarded up front door.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Magnus responded as he walked to the broken window the demon had slipped in through. Covering up his hand with the sleeve of his dark purple trench coat, he grabbed the jagged piece of glass jutting upwards from the pane and pushed it in, causing it crack and break off to allow a smoother entry. He knocked the other pieces in, as well, clearing the window of all glass so they would not cut themselves on the way in. “C’mon, Alec. You first.”

Alec gave him a flat look as he walked up to him. “And what if there’s something in there waiting to ambush us?”

“There is. You first.” Magnus sent him a devious smile as Alec rolled his eyes.

He grabbed the edges of the windowsill and jumped up, pulling himself up and into the window. There was an old, dust-covered couch below the window to catch him as he landed on it on his shoulder; a puff of dust emitted from him when his body fell onto it and he found himself coughing from the inhale. He rolled off of it onto his feet as Magnus entered right behind him in a similar fashion, albeit not coughing. However, Magnus failed to land gracefully onto his feet and, instead, wound up sitting on the floor. He suddenly looked confused as he leaned to the side, reaching his hand behind him.

“I think I fell on a cat…,” he trailed off, grabbing whatever it was that was half-under him and half-under the couch. He pulled it out and held it out in front of him. “Well, I was close. Hey, Alec, you want a raccoon?”

“What?” he asked, somewhat annoyed at his partner’s careless demeanor. But, then, maybe he – Alec – was being fretful over nothing. He turned to look at what Magnus was holding and stepped back. “Okay,” he trailed out before continuing with: “That’s just gross.” The left side of his lip curled upwards at the dead, nearly-mummified raccoon that Magnus held upside down by the tail.

Magnus stared at the dead creature. “Well, look at it this way: we just found dinner for a homeless person.”

Alec knitted his eyebrows together, somehow still managing to raise the corner of his left brow. “Please put down the dead rodent.”

“Actually, raccoons aren’t rodents; they’re part of the Procyonidae fami—”

“I – I don’t care,” Alec said, purposely stuttering.

Magnus sighed and brought it down, tossing it away from him and taking to his feet, dusting himself off; both dust and glitter fell to the floor and he brought his attention to Alec who was looking around the room.

The inside belonged with the outside, with broken items and dust-covered upholstery in, what appeared to be, the living room. Cobwebs covered lamps and old picture frames that were set out on side tables. They heard glass crash in what they figured was the kitchen and were quickly after it, only to see the ravener demon sniffing vigorously by a shut door before it crashed through it, the taste of the blood the only thing on its mind.

“If that really was Jace’s blood, then he’s here,” Magnus said, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself. Either way, it garnered a comment from Alec.

“Here?” as though it was more to say: _How could Jace be in a dump like this?_

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

They followed the demon through the door, ending up in a sub-leveled basement with the creature sniffing around a section of the floor. It tried to tear through it, but even it was unable to get through. Seeing that it had done what it was summoned for, Magnus flicked his hand, sending what looked like a white stream of light at the creature and piercing through it. It screeched as it began to die, emitting scream-like noises as it began to shrivel. When nothing was left, Magnus approached the area of the floor it had been circling to see a very out-of-place handle. With Alec now next to him, they both had to grab and pull the handle, pulling a large, concrete slate across the floor to reveal a set of concrete stairs, leading under the house. Magnus raised a brow and, when he turned to look at his partner, Alec had already moved to begin the descent. He followed after him, walking next to him down the long stairwell.

As it became darker and darker, Alec found himself fumbling in his pockets for his witchlight to illuminate the path. With the path now lit, they could faintly see a door at the bottom, a very low light emitting from beneath it. Alec picked his pace up, nearly running down the stairs, careful not to miss a step and go head-over-heels. When they reached the landing at the bottom, Magnus set his hand on Alec’s shoulder, maneuvering to be in front of him; from instinct, Alec’s hand traced down to the hilt of his blade, gripping it tightly and monitoring to keep his breaths even as Magnus gripped the metal handle of the door and pushed down.

He had to actually push the door open, it weighing more than he thought; it screeched its way across the cement flooring. With a final push, it was opened completely and they were introduced to the heavy scent of blood flooding the air. Alec could not help but cover his nose with the back of his hand, the blade reflecting off dim light – the witchlight had gone back to its resting place in his pocket. He stepped around Magnus to gain entrance to the room, his eyes widening at the sight.

Unknown runes were scribbled all over the room, blood smeared over and around them. Bloodstained feathers covered the floor, and he and Magnus found themselves unable to keep from stepping on them. Alec found his stomach turning when his eyes traced the pieces of full wings on the floor, blood thick around them and still leaking from their ends. Perhaps it was because they were still in awe of the scene around them, but it took Alec a moment to notice the left end of the room – the left end where a large white wing lay over a human figure. He took a step towards it, shoes crunching over feathers and blood as he left the side of Magnus, whose attention had been drawn to the table at the right side of the room. Only after he noticed that his side had been abandoned did his eyes trace to where Alec was walking. With eyebrows furrowed, Alec stared at it, unable to comprehend what it was exactly he was staring at. Before he was able to take another step closer to it, Magnus was next to him and grabbed his arm, holding him back. He turned to look at him.

“Magnus, wha—”

The warlock motioned to the floor; the runes scribbled around the figure in the shape of an upside down pentacle. Eyes darting around, their attention jerked when they noticed that the large wing quivered. Ignoring the script, Alec jerked his arm free and crossed the threshold, stopping and kneeling down next to the splotched wing. Setting his blade next to him, he reached out his hand; the moment his fingers came into contact with the wing, it jerked, making him pull his hand back from reflex. He reached out again, but, this time when the wing jerked, he lightly grabbed it at the bone, trying to gently move it out of the way. Sensing no threat, the wing slowly pulled back and folded itself behind the crumpled figure it was attached to.  

Alec took in a sharp breath, his eyebrows shooting up under his hair as his eyes flew wide and a sharp pain jabbed at his chest. With a shaking hand, he reached down to touch the face of the body, as though to see whether or not what he was seeing was real. When his fingers made soft contact with Jace’s cheek, he felt his stomach and chest tighten as his eyes started to sting.

“Ja-ce?” he drew out, his breath catching in his throat.

His eyes trailed down, passing the blood around his ally’s mouth and stopping at his chest where his own seraph blade had been used cruelly against him and run to the hilt into his chest. When he saw the blade lightly quiver, the runes surrounding him began to glow a very dull red and he heard Magnus behind him.

“Quick, get him out of the pentacle!” He crossed the threshold as well to help move Jace from the diagram; however, the moment he crossed, he felt a something pull him forward before throwing him backwards against the wall. “Ow…that was uncalled for!” he yelled out, leaning forward and holding his back when he tried to stand. Yet, his voice sounded distant to the Shadowhunter still within the diagram.

He shifted Jace to where he held him with both of his arms looped under and around Jace’s shoulders. He stepped backwards, half-carrying and half-pulling Jace out of the inner Points; however, when Jace’s body crossed the inner Five-Point threshold, the full wing and wing stub began to shake violently, as though they would be screaming for an unknown pain to stop. Echoes began sounding around the room and, what felt like a large weight suddenly began pushing down on him, trying to pull him to the ground and Jace away from him – to keep them within. With his arms under Jace’s upper arms giving him leverage, Alec took a forceful step backwards, the weight feeling as though it was beginning to crack his shoulders. When he felt something grab his ankle, he released a shout, clamped his eyes shut and began jerking his foot, trying to get loose; but another invisible force grabbed his other leg, not allowing him to move. When he opened his eyes, the room had pulled away and, instead, he was introduced to a sea of pale, blue-veined demons below him, grabbing at his legs, arms and chest, trying to get him to fall. He latched onto Jace when other demons were swarming over him, as well. Arms wrapped around his abdomen as they continued to try and pull him loose of Alec’s grip.

“Let him go!” he shouted, tightening his hold and pulling him closer to him. The blade in his chest shook violently and blood began pouring from the wound. “No! Jace!” He clenched his eyes shut again, hoping that, when he would open his eyes, the scene would be gone and prove to be a façade. Instead, when he opened his eyes, a large, winged demon was in front of him, seemingly from nowhere. His eyes flew wide. The demon cocked its head, staring at Alec – inspecting him. When it exhaled, the demons below pulled Alec roughly, finally forcing him away from Jace. The demons held onto him as he began fighting, trying to pull free; but the more he fought, the tighter they held him. He stopped suddenly and watched as the creatures that had grabbed a hold of Jace began releasing their grip and holding him up above the lot of them. The large, winged demon grabbed Jace in one hand, pulling him away like he was a mere ragdoll: Jace’s body only fell limp. The one whole wing stretched out, as though it was trying free Jace and get away – trying to do the one thing its owner was incapable of.

“NO!!” Alec screamed, pulling and twisting violently against those that held him. “Let him go! LET HIM GO!” The creature only pulled back, holding Jace’s limp body at its side. Alec thrashed, jerking every part of his body, but it was futile. Water streamed down his face as he could only watch the demon retreat with his comrade in hand. “You can’t have him!!” That was when the demon stopped. It pulled its attention back to the small human below it, still fighting. “Give him back! He’s not yours!” The demon cocked its head, as though it were intrigued by Alec’s futile attempts to free himself. Though Alec himself was unaware, he had tears down his cheeks. “Don’t take him away from me!” he shouted, voice breaking as his jerks and pulls became less pronounced. He stopped when he noticed that the demon was staring at him and his chest fell as he fell against the hands holding him. “Please…don’t take him away from me, too….”

With a large exhale, the creature came down, staring at Alec, peering into his face. The scent of rotting flesh filled the Shadowhunter’s nostrils and it took all of his self-restraint not to gag. It studied him for a moment before pulling its attention to Jace. Seeming content, it pulled back, taking Jace with it. Alec tensed and he pulled again.

“PLEASE!!”

But the creature did not seem intent on taking Jace – at least not just yet. It held him up and leaned over him, breathing into his face. Just as it had done earlier, it opened its mouth, producing its multiple tongues, each a different colour. However, this time it its red tongue extended out. Alec could only watch as the red tongue felt its way around Jace’s face – down from the teen’s eyebrow to his nose to his cheek, and then to his mouth. Now hovering over the teen’s slightly-agape mouth, the tongue itself suddenly opened – the tongue had a second mouth. Then something fell from the tip of tongue into Jace’s mouth. It took Alec a moment to realize what it was, but, when a few more droplets slipped out, he realized that it was blood.

Jace gave a sudden, harsh jerk and ended up coughing up a mouthful of blood and turned his head to the side, a low groan being released from the pit of his throat. His body convulsed as another cough had him spilling more. It lowered Jace’s body, practically dropping it. Not taking the chance of the sea of creatures taking their hold of him again, Alec pulled once more, this time yanking free and nearly falling forward just in time to catch Jace with his forearms under the other’s arms, supporting him with Jace’s back pressed against his abdomen; blood from the severed wing bled through his sweater.

He stared up at the creature, but it was gone. He looked around as the scene surrounding them began to dissipate. Instead, he was surrounded by the red glow from the pentacle in darkness. His heart raced as low, chanting voices were as a hum around them; he looked back, noticing that they were only one large step from where the diagram ended – nothing but darkness lie beyond. With gravity still against him, he forced a step backwards. The chants became louder and he could feel the pressure on his body trying to force him down to the floor. Clamping his eyes shut, he tensed his entire body and gave a final hard pull, jerking Jace from the full diagram and collapsing with Jace against his stomach onto the concrete beyond the Marks.

The red glow died out and he was reintroduced to the cold, blood-covered, cement basement. He barely noticed Magnus coming towards him before his attention turned solely to Jace. His mind was a blur and he was unable to even hear the warlock speak to him. Everything sounded muffled, as though his ears were recovering from trauma. The only thing he was certain of was that he kept saying “Jace” over and over again. He began focusing back in when Magnus was helping to pull Jace off of him and lay him down gently on the floor. Alec fell forward to his hands and knees, leaning over Jace as his eyes trailed up and down his comrade’s broken form. His hand hovered from down Jace’s face to his chest, quivering when it reached the glass blade jammed into his chest.

Slowly, he gripped the hilt of the blade with his left hand, moving his eyes from it to Jace’s face. His breath hitched in his throat, knowing that, what he was about to do, would give him mere seconds. With his right hand drawing out his stele, he held his breath and, as quickly as he could, pulled the blade from the other’s chest. Blood immediately began flowing from the wound and Alec ripped apart the black t-shirt, baring Jace’s chest so he was able to create an _iratze_ as close to his heart as he was able.

With it being so close to the fatal wound, it began healing - the tissue reforming deep within the wound. Slowly, the skin started to reform, though it would take time to completely heal due to the severity. The bruises and minor cuts started to follow suit.

Jace began groaning, though it sounded more like a grunt mixed with a restrained cry. Setting down his stele, Alec moved to pull Jace off of the hard floor, relieving the pressure put on the broken wing by being compressed to the cement. Jace released more of the same noises, but the more he released them, the more pronounced the pain in his voice sounded. He began panting before clenching his jaw and trying to force his eyes open.

“Jace-!” Alec got out, eyes lighting up, seeing the blond come to.

Jace released another pain-filled grunt as he stared up at Alec through slit eyes. “Alec…?” he got out, barely above a whisper. Alec only nodded, trying to keep his eyes from watering.  Jace groaned, clamping his eyes shut and pressing against Alec, allowing the other’s body heat and scent comfort him. “I’m sorry,” he spoke in a forced breath. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Alec released a laugh, though it was apparent the laugh was only to cover up his will to not let his voice crack. A drop escaped from his eye and he shook his head. “What are you apologizing for, you idiot?”

Jace held back a cry when the broken wing twitched. “It hurts…it really hurts,” he muttered, voice filled with pain.

Alec gave way to his emotions and was no longer able to stop his eyes from doing what they wanted, failing to notice Magnus kneeling next to them, his hand on Alec's shoulder and focus on Jace. “You’re an idiot, Jace,” he said as he embraced his broken ally, unwilling to allow him to be taken again. “You’re a freakin’ idiot….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone gets the racoon reference, LET ME KNOW.   
> Because I bust a gut every time at the original!


	7. Rehabilitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back for the weekend before I go on leave with my job for two more weeks.  
> Got this and two more chapters to go.

**7  
Rehabilitation**

“We’ll have to figure out something. Jace needs to recover – not be hounded by the Clave for answers.”

“They’re bound to find out, Maryse. You can’t just hide him here for a month. And news of Jonathan’s return is, inevitably, going to reach their ears.”

“I know; but what can we do?”

Alec, who had been standing outside of the door while his mother and Magnus tried to deliberate on what to do with the current situation, shook his head and walked back down the hall with his hands shoved in his pockets. He passed the Study and wound up staring at the staircase that led to the top of the Institute. Deciding not to create noise with the elevator, he stepped up the first stair and began his ascent.

He and Magnus had returned to the Institute, deciding that it would be best for the younger Shadowhunter to rest and mend where he was comfortable. However, trying to move Jace from the cold, concreted room had proven to be no simple task; every time they tried to help him up, their ears were met with shouts of shear agony from the movement it forced on the wings. Many of the wounds would take until later that morning to be completely healed, but the wings seemed to be immune to any and all runes Alec tried. They knew that it would be best for Jace to sleep through the worse part of the pain, but it was obvious he was in too much pain to willingly sleep; so Alec had drawn a rarely-used Mark to force him to rest. When he lifted Jace, the stub-of-a-wing twitched violently and the full wing stretched out, laying itself over Jace like a blanket.

When they came back to the Institute, Isabelle was sitting in a chair against the wall in the foyer; the book she had been reading earlier still in her hands. Before she had looked up from her book, she only asked if Alec had found him. When she looked up, the colour had drained from her face and she dropped the book, coming over and asking what happened. The commotion echoing off the walls was loud enough to wake Maryse, who came down in the elevator, ready to scold them for making a racket. That was until she saw the condition her adoptive son was in and instructed them to take him upstairs where they could begin trying to mend him. For the time, all they could do was apply medicine to the cut wing and wrap it.

He pushed open the door to Jace’s room and shut it quietly behind him, releasing a sigh. His eyes landed on Jace, who was sleeping, though not soundly – he kept moaning and his face would continually flood with pain before he would relax. Every few moments, it was repeated. He was lying on his side, the full wing folded behind him, also appearing to rest.

He walked up to the edge of the bed and looked down at his wounded ally. Seeing Jace in such a vulnerable state had his spine chill; the only time he had ever seen him that way was when Jace willingly put himself in those positions with intentions of getting himself out, but this….

Sensing a close presence, the wing shifted to cover Jace, shielding him from Alec’s view. Though he was unsure why, seeing that reaction sent a sharp jolt to his chest. He began stroking the wing, feeling the softness of the feathers beneath his fingers. Realizing that Alec was not a threat, the wing stretched, practically pushing itself against Alec’s hand, as though it were a cat begging for attention. After he ran his hand through it a few more times, it returned to its resting place behind Jace’s back.

Slowly, he let his hand lie against Jace’s face before moving it to run gently through his hair. The dried bits of blood and matted dirt had been washed away earlier when he was being tended to, putting the light, gold shine back into his hair. Dawn light was just starting to flood in through the window, dousing both of them in the golden-orange glow, as though it was washing away the contents of earlier happenings and purifying the air. It cast shadows along the sharp features in Jace’s face, showing how undernourished he truly was; but when the sunlight touched the wing, it seemed to almost burst in silvery-white light. It was in that moment that Alec saw what was truly in front of him: not only his comrade – his ally, but an angel; a _true_ angel. His mind was too wrapped up in keeping the other safe and stopping his pain, that he had not realized _that_ was what Jonathan had done: he had somehow found a way to harness the Angel’s blood that coursed through Jace’s veins and unleash his true potential – to create the essence of purity, all so he could destroy it and have Jace suffer with the consequence.

“Figured you’d be up here.” Alec turned to see Isabelle standing in the doorway to the room, her hand still on the handle. He did not even hear the door open. “Alec—” she started, her eyes shimmering. He brought up his hand, wiping his face from tears that he had not even been aware of. “Look, he’s asleep and resting right now; not much you can do. So why don’t you go ahead and go to bed?” The question ended in more of a statement. He nodded, but, before he left, he looked back to Jace. “He’ll be fine, now, Alec.”

“I hope so, Iz…I really do.”

* * *

For the most part, the rest of the morning was met in silence, with the exception of the occasional moan from Jace’s room. It was as though everyone seemed to tiptoe around the subject of what happened, but they all knew it was inevitably going to come up. Magnus had left the Institute around eleven after trying to comfort Alec as best he could, saying that he had to pick up something; whatever it was, he did not relay it to anyone. Alec spent the remainder of the morning and early afternoon in a chair next to Jace’s bed; the only sleep he managed to get was when he had fallen asleep leaning on the edge of the bed as though he were a high school student who fell asleep on their desk.

It was mid-afternoon when Jace finally stirred. Once he was awake, his mutilated wing was tended to again; fresh aloe and bandages were applied and Jace could not help but cringe when the aloe caused a sting to the sensitive bone. Even Maryse kept finding herself staring, mesmerized at the wings – or wing and a half, as it were. It was difficult to look away; they had never witnessed anything like it.

A human-angel.

Jace had not said a word since he had woken up, and, for the most part, he just stayed in his room, as though he was shying away from the world. By the time dinner came around, Jace continued to hold up in his room, ignoring the knocks from both Isabelle and Alec telling him that he needed to eat. It had seemed they gave up when he did not respond multiple times. An hour later, Alec had returned and rapped on the door; when he opened the door, pushing his way into the room, Jace was sitting on the windowsill with the window completely pushed open, flooding the room with the cool night air. The lights in the room were off, leaving only the outside to fill the room with white light. The sounds of the city below could be heard. The waning quarter moon was seen hanging low in the sky, showing that the time was still early in the night. Alec could not help but watch the younger male: with one leg bent and set on the windowsill and the other hanging outside of the window, with his right, full wing facing his direction, curled behind his back, blocking the view of the other, Alec stood in awe. It was a scene from a painting: a perfect angel gazing into the star-filled sky, as though wishing it could return to the skies it fell from.

He shook his head, pushing the door the rest of the way open and stepping into the room.

“Jace, I brought you something to eat.” He set it on the table next to the bed and looked back to Jace, who was now staring down at his lap. Alec released a sigh. “I don’t care if you only take a little, but please eat something. You can’t do this to yourself.” Still, he failed to get a reply. He turned to leave, his hand holding the side of the door. He looked over his shoulder; Jace did not move. “We’re here for you…. _I’m_ here for you, Jace. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Still nothing.

Alec released another breath and turned away, slowly shutting the door behind him. Just as the door was about to latch shut, he caught Jace’s voice.

“I don’t.”

It was so quiet and fluttered that Alec wondered if Jace had spoken at all. But when he opened the door back, he was met with Jace’s eyes looking at him; his eyebrows were furrowed up, creating creases in his forehead. Even in the dark, Alec could still see the shimmer in the other’s eyes.

“I don’t want to forget.”

For the next moment, they just stared at each other, unmoving…unwavering. A small breeze blew through the room, ruffling some papers on the bedside table and picking up their hair; even Jace’s feathers shifted with the Night Wind. Alec’s heart pounded in his chest: he still felt a deep unease seeing Jace so vulnerable. It was like watching an illogical logic; seeing a bird swim or a fish take to the skies.

“I want to know why.”

Alec lightly shut the door, leaving it to be only him and Jace. “Why?”

Then Jace asked, barely in a whisper, “Why do you care?”

Alec felt himself tense. His shoulders fell and he just stared at Jace, as though he thought he heard him wrong. The look behind Jace’s eyes gave it away and the pain in Alec’s chest returned.

“Jace….”

“Why couldn’t you just leave me there, Alec?” All Alec was able to do was get the other’s name out one more time before Jace got down from the windowsill and stood up, almost appearing to have an aura in the glow of the moon and stars. “All I ever seem to do is hurt people I care about. Even Clary couldn’t stand me! Look at me, Alec!” he said, the ferocity behind his voice blatant. “I can’t even fend for myself! What the hell kind of Nephilim am I?! He made me a goddamn angel and I still couldn't do anything...! I'm not weak! I've never been weak! But right now...that's all I feel....”

Alec could not respond. He only stood staring, his mouth slightly agape as though he could not believe anything he had just heard. This was not Jace – this was a shell of the young man he had come to know.

A broken shadow.

Unconsciously, he took a step forward. He must have stepped closer than he thought, because, the next thing he knew, he stood directly in front of Jace. Jace had put one foot behind him, as though he was preparing to step backwards and jump out of the window. He lifted his hands up and set them on Jace’s shoulders, peering into his eyes. Jace’s eyes shimmered, and Alec questioned whether or not Jace even knew why he had the reaction he did. After gauging him, he wrapped his arms around Jace’s shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He felt Jace’s body tense; even the full wing tensed, pulling itself closer to the fair-haired Shadowhunter.

“You’re beautiful, Jace,” he said in a whisper in Jace’s ear. He could sense the other’s reaction; Jace’s eyes widening at his words. “I don’t care what you think you are or what you think you’re not. You’re not pathetic; and I don’t care if you can’t fend for yourself one hundred percent of the time: no one can. So for that point zero, zero one percent you _can’t_ handle yourself, I can.”

There was a moment’s pause, but Jace seemed to relax slightly and he brought up his arms, returning the embrace. He shut his eyes, his senses being introduced to the familiar scent of his best friend. That was the scent he was used to. He did not care that it was an abnormal behaviour for the two of them; he allowed his senses to be overwhelmed. He pressed against Alec, taking in the feel of his arms around him, his scent that he had become so accustomed to without ever realizing, the way his heart could be felt pounding against his chest and the sound of his heartbeat and Alec’s even breathing.

In that moment, he felt… _safe_.

Whether it was that he felt safe or that his mind and body welcomed the comfort, he could not tell.

“And plus,” Alec started, “if anyone kills you for being an idiot, I claim rights on that one.”

Jace laughed somewhat awkwardly.

“Your sense of humor sucks, Alec.” Alec released a silent chuckle, vibrating his chest and Jace lightly tightened his hold. “I mean…it really _really_ sucks.”

* * *

Jace’s eyes trailed the area around the room, not focusing on any one thing in particular, absorbing the information. Alec stood, watching him, and Isabelle raised an eyebrow as she stared at Magnus. The dust-covered book was in his hand at his side and he tapped it lightly on his thigh, waiting for a response. Jace’s eyes finally found their way back to him and he met the warlock’s eyes, face still uncertain.

“There’s no way to do both?” he asked, voice tracing with hints of annoyance.

Magnus shrugged and put his hand on his hipbone, holding up the closed book he had returned to the Institute with. After he disappeared for the remainder of the day, he returned when the moon was near the middle of the sky, signaling how close it was to midnight.

“It’s possible, but I don’t think your body would be able to handle the trauma – no offense.” Now Isabelle’s and Alec’s gazes were also upon him. Magnus released an aggravated sigh, obviously wanting either a yes or no. “To do both, it would have to be done back-to-back, and it’s no small feat.” Jace and Isabelle exchanged looks of sarcastic interest. “The initial phase would be hell alone; and with the recovery period…you’d be out of commission for at least a month. Runes wouldn’t be able to help you in this scenario.”

Jace’s eyes darted away, conflict behind them.

“Why wouldn’t Runes help?” Isabelle asked, officially entering the conversation. Her face was flooded with concern; concern for her adoptive brother’s safety and well-being.

Magnus shook his head, bringing the book back down. “Let’s just say that words from certain books aren’t meant to help the Nephilim.” His attention shifted to Jace, whose eyes had gone dark, thinking. “If you choose to go through this, Jace”—Jace looked at him, hearing his name and being pulled from his thoughts—“you’ll be immune to any and all Runes until it fades. If you choose to do both, it’d be a month where you’d be as vulnerable as any mundane. Basically, you’re a mundane until the recovery’s complete.”

Isabelle scoffed and tossed her hair behind her. “Seems like a rather high stake, if you ask me.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

Silence filled the air, leaving a feeling of awkwardness between them.

After Magnus explained what could be done and how it had to be done, Jace was hesitant on whether or not it was worth it. The pain when the wings were extracted was the worse pain he had ever felt; at least that was what he thought until Jonathan cut the left wing off as though it was a mere twig. To have it restored, the wing would have to be regrown, which meant the building of bone and sinew.

The latter portion revolved around the wings being shoved back into his body.

The thought of feeling those hands on him again had him shudder.

“I’ll do it.”

They all turned to look at Jace; his eyes glowing with regretful determination.

“Jace….”

“I can’t just stay like this,” he said hastily, cutting Alec off. “And the sooner it’s done, the better.” He clenched his jaw. “What do I have to do?”

Magnus’s cat eyes beamed and he brought the book back up, opening it and turning to the marked page. “We’re gonna need a diagram.”


	8. Silverlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**8**

**Silverlight**

“I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’re not getting out of it after we’ve already come this far!”

Jace frowned and traced his eyes to the diagram; he sneered at the white lines drawn in a pentacle; a complete contrast to the pentagram diagram from the other night. Still, there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that pleaded not to go through with it; yet, the other half of his mind said otherwise. Something continued to seem off and he feared that things would go wrong.

Jonathan had the opportunity to take his life. He knew that he had left Jace alive, but for what reason? To feel the pain and the torment of being the essence of purity and having it stripped away? Even what he was about to do seemed so…easy. Too easy, even.

“—okay, Jace?”

Jace shook his head, his blonde hair falling in front of his face. “What?” he asked, having been lost in his thoughts.

Magnus sighed and shook his head. “I said that once we start, there will be a point where I won’t be able to stop, okay?” Jace only nodded. Magnus cleared his throat and picked up a dark red-bound book from where it sat on a chair. “Go ahead and stand in the center.” His apprehension was apparent – as it should be. If something happened to Jace’s well-being while Magnus was in control, the backlash could be ten-fold. Everyone would be questioning what happened: was it intentional? An accident? Is he part of some other scheme to get to Jace?

Isabelle was standing near the entrance to the glassed-in room, eyes taking in what was happening and ready to fight if anyone (or anything) came in unexpectedly. Maryse decided to make herself scarce, saying that she could not report to the Clave what she did not witness. Though it went against everything she knew to be the correct procedure, she could not stand the thought of making things even more difficult for her adoptive son. Alec stood near Magnus, shoes barely outside of the pentacle; witnessing everything the other night, he was too on-edge and wanted to be where, if needed, he could aid immediately.

As Jace stepped to the center of the white-drawn pentacle, he looked around, his heart pounding in his chest. Anticipation for the pain was what made him nervous; at least what made him even more nervous than he already was. He did not know what to expect; though, whatever it was, he knew it could not be worse than what he had already been through.

But then, why did it bother him so much?

He glanced over from Isabelle to Magnus before his eyes landed on Alec. From where he stood, it made him feel so far away from them; as though he was looking at them through the wrong side of a pair of binoculars. Alec sent him a small smile, as though trying to reassure him that everything would be fine; but the uneasiness in his smile was apparent, even if he did not notice it. However, Jace returned the same gesture. It did little to put him at ease. He looked back at Magnus and nodded, finally signaling that he was ready – or, at least, as ready as he was going to be. He watched as Magnus sighed and opened the book, flipping to the right page.

“ _Gia tous angélous tis sfaíras daímona, Sas parousiázo mia misó-fylí_.” The white pentacle began to emit a soft glow of silver, casting shadows throughout the room. Jace’s eyes jerked around, watching the entire form light up. Alec had finally uncrossed his arms and Isabelle tried to look on with little interest, but failed with her eyebrows rising. “ _Ópos kai eseís, échete ta fterá tou échoun katastrafeí apó tis en lógo aníeri. Válte ta chéria sas páno tou - Sas parakaló_.” Jace’s body tensed when he began feeling hands touch his body – though not grabbing him, they felt as though they were simply setting themselves on him just to touch. His eyebrows began to move upwards, creating creases in his forehead. Magnus swallowed and continued: “ _Me to chéri tis katastrofís, na ptéryga tou. Me to chéri tou révmatos, párte tin kardiá tou_.”

Jace suddenly jerked, feeling hands grab his stubbed wing. He released a gasp and clutched at his chest mere moments afterwards, feeling as though something had taken hold of his heart and was squeezing it, trying to get it to burst. He tried to inhale a deep breath, but his airway was becoming restricted and he was finding it difficult to get the air he needed. He dropped his hands and knees, right hand still grabbing at his chest as his breath wheezed.

“Jace!” Magnus stretched his arm out beside him, blocking Alec when the Shadowhunter stepped forward, his face distraught. He jerked his attention to Magnus, who was not even looking up from the book.

He only shook his head as he continued reading. “ _Daímones, metarrýthmisi spasméni fteroúga aftós o ángelos, epitrépontás tou na érthei os énan pesméno ángelo ópos kai o dáskalós sas, o Eosfóros_.” Jace’s hands tightened to fists, nails digging into his palm and chest, drawing blood as the small wing-stub began shaking violently. He managed to take shallow breaths, eyes clenched shut at the wing began to heal, forming to a complete, small wing. Seeing it heal, Alec’s and Isabelle’s eyes widened in awe; that was until more words were spoken from the book.

Taking a deep breath, Magnus spoke, “ _Anepithýmites fonés, syntrípste ta fterá tou, katadikázontás ton san esás_.”

Jace’s wings could be seen bending, as though their bones were being forced to bend in ways they could not. Jace continued gasping, trying to get in air, his eyes wide as the bones began making a cracking noise, searing pain shooting down the wings and his back. Feeling as though hundreds of hands were all trying to gain access to the wings, they were being bent in multiple directions. The sound of hundreds of cracks echoed through the room just as Jace finally gained breath. As the bones snapped under the pressure, Jace released an ear-shattering scream as he collapsed to the floor and began clawing at the floor for relief. Alec and Isabelle could only watch in horror as the full wing collapsed, the bones in it completely broken and shattered; the small, healed half-wing did not fare much better and it fell limp against his back.

With his jaw clenched, Magnus tried to avoid looking up, not wanting to see the scene that he was causing. The large wing dragged on the floor, twitching violently as Jace crawled to the inner boundary of the pentacle, tears staining both sides of his face. He stopped before he crossed it, falling, his cheek pressed against the floor with his eyes clamped shut, body shaking.

“Please…make it stop…,” he cried out as wave after wave of pain radiated down his back.

“What are you doing to him?!” Isabelle yelled as she crossed the room to Magnus and Alec, her eyes wide and shining as she could only watch her adoptive brother’s pain.

Alec stared at Magnus. “You have to stop – it’s going to kill him!”

Magnus shook his head. “I can’t just stop, Alec.”

“Magnus!”

“We’ve come too far!” he shouted, voice bouncing off of the walls as he snapped his head to his partner. Jace appeared to be unable to hear them inside the pentacle, his eyes opened to slits and staring at the white glow as water splashed onto the floor. His mouth moved, but his voice was inaudible. “He'll stay like this if we stop, Alec, with no way to turn back.” He shook his head, looking at the broken figure in front of them. “We have to keep going. Please understand that.”

Alec’s eyebrows furrowed upwards as he looked back to Jace, eyes glazed over. He only nodded, giving the silent ‘okay’ to continue. With a sympathetic look, Magnus took the response and brought his attention back to the book.

“ _Diáspasi sto píso méros aftoú spasména ángelos kai na epistrépsoun ó, ti kápote ítan mésa._ ”

Just like before, Jace felt hundreds of hands on him, tearing at his back. His entire body tensed and he tried to gather back to his hands and knees as fresh tears began ripping down his back. He released another yell as blood began falling from the splits, dripping down and over the sides of his back, pooling at the front of his shirt. Trying to stifle another yell, he pressed his forehead to the floor, water falling and hitting the floor. The hands that were on him pulled at the wings, forcing them straight up; the yell he kept trying to bite back finally emitted from his throat when the wings were pulled tight, stretching to where the full wing nearly touched the ceiling.

It all came crashing down like a weight when he felt as though there were hands inside his back, pulling the wings down as hands on the outside of the wings shoved them down. Broken cries escaped his throat as he felt the shattered bones entering his body, feeling as though they were being folded to rest on his shoulder blades. The smaller wing was finally in, which only left the full wing to be pulled violently: it slowly disappeared into his back. Jace collapsed to the floor as the final end of the wing entered his back; his eyes stared blankly in front of him.

The silver light from the pentagram slowly began to fade and Magnus closed the book, letting it sit next to him in his hand. Glancing to Magnus, the look on his face meant that it was over, but when Alec tried to cross into the pentacle, he was thrown back and the runes lit up again, sending blinding silver light shooting up in the shape of the diagram – a pillar of light that hit the ceiling. Magnus stared up at the waterfall of light and Isabelle snapped her head to look at him.

“What’s happening?!” she cried out as Alec managed to get back to his feet.

Magnus pulled the book back up, flipping through it, anxiety clear on his face. “I – I don’t know!” he sputtered. He turned through page after page. “This isn’t supposed to happen!”

Alec’s focus was solely on Jace’s limp figure, his eyes wide and eyebrows hidden under his hair as his heart pounded in his chest, feeling as though it would burst from his ribcage. Frantically, Magnus was flipping through the book, trying to find something to stop or explain what was going on.

“Uh – uh! _Daímones tou Eosfórou, ton eleftheróste!_ _O Ángelos den eínai típota perissótero!_ ” Magnus shouted words from the book, pulling his head up, but nothing happened.

“Magnus, do something!” Isabelle yelled at him as she focused on Jace; he lay unmoving.

 “I’m trying!” he yelled back, returning to look through pages.

The silver light intensified, blocking their view of Jace altogether as streams of light continued to shoot to the ceiling. Releasing a growl, Alec reached to his sister’s leg, pulling out the dagger she kept strapped there. He bent down and began scraping at the outer circle of the diagram, creating a split – a broken line through the circle. Again, he was thrown back, landing on his back; but creating a split in the diagram seemed to do what he was hoping it would. The light died out and they were back to being able to see Jace.

He had not moved.

As he pushed himself to his feet, he noticed red blood dripping from Jace’s mouth and onto the floor. Before Isabelle or Magnus could stop him, Alec crossed the threshold, running and dropping to his knees at Jace’s side.

“Jace!” he cried out, grabbing Jace’s shoulder and leaning down to look at his comrade’s face. Jace only stared blankly back, unmoving as blood ran down his chin. He snapped his head to Isabelle and Magnus. “Something’s wrong!” he said before bringing his attention back to the blond. Isabelle and Magnus glanced at each other before Isabelle followed after Alec, leaving Magnus to break all the way through the diagram to make sure there was not another relapse. Alec leaned to look at Jace’s back, cringing at seeing the large gashes followed by spilling blood. He pulled his attention back to Jace’s face and set his hand on the side of his face, running his hand through his hair. “Come on, Jace. It’s over,” he said, forcing a smile as he tried to get a response. He barely registered Isabelle bending to her knees next to him.

“What is that?” Isabelle asked, fret in her voice as she motioned to his shoulder.

Alec glanced to see what she was talking about.

There stood a rune in red – one they had never seen before. It looked as though it had been burned onto his shoulder by a branding iron. Alec shook Jace after he broke his attention to the rune. “Jace, wake up!” he shouted, shaking his ally. Jace’s blonde hair fell over his face, but no other reaction was garnered.

They heard footsteps behind them and Magnus shoved himself between Alec and Isabelle. Isabelle could not help but glance over her shoulder: There was a long line through the diagram, breaking it. Her attention was drawn back to Magnus when he held up the same dagger Alec had taken from her. “ _Dóiteáin_ ,” he muttered and the dagger glowed red, as though he had been pulled from hot coals.

“What are you doing?” Isabelle asked as Magnus brought the glowing red metal closer to Jace’s shoulder.

“Just like the diagram”—he pressed the dagger to Jace’s shoulder—“it has to be warped to be broken.” There was the sizzling sound of burning flesh and Jace gave a violent jerk, his eyes flying open as he gasped. Magnus pulled the dagger away and stood up, stepping back to give Isabelle better access. Alec immediately pulled Jace against his chest, embracing him as the other released the broken mutterings of apologies.

Ignoring the questions tearing at her, Isabelle set her hand on her brother's shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get him upstairs to recover.”

Alec nodded, still staying silent. Shifting to where the bottom of his feet were on the floor under his knees, Alec moved Jace to where he had one arm under his upper back and the other arm halfway under his thighs. With Isabelle’s and Magnus' help, he took to a stand, carrying Jace cradle-style. Jace clenched his eyes and jaw from the pressure put on his back, but did not shout out. They heard him mutter, “I can walk” a few times, but the expression on his face spoke louder than his stoic whispers.

* * *

_**(Translation Greek → English)** _

Gia tous angélous tis sfaíras daímona, Sas parousiázo mia misó-fylí. - For the Angels of Demon's Sphere, I present you a half-breed. _  
_

Ópos kai eseís, échete ta fterá tou échoun katastrafeí apó tis en lógo aníeri. - Like you, you have his wings destroyed by those unholy.

Válte ta chéria sas páno tou - Sas parakaló. - Please place your hands on him.

Me to chéri tis katastrofís, na ptéryga tou. - With the hand of destruction, take his wing.

Me to chéri tou révmatos, párte tin kardiá tou. - With the hand of the current, take his heart.

Daímones, metarrýthmisi spasméni fteroúga aftós o ángelos, epitrépontás tou na érthei os énan pesméno ángelo ópos kai o dáskalós sas, o Eosfóros. - Demons, reform this broken angel, allowing him to be a fallen angel like your teacher, Lucifer.

Anepithýmites fonés, syntrípste ta fterá tou, katadikázontás ton san esás. - Unheard voices, crush his wings, condemning him like you.  


Diáspasi sto píso méros aftoú spasména ángelos kai na epistrépsoun ó, ti kápote ítan mésa. - Break into the back of this broken angel and return what was inside.

Daímones tou Eosfórou, ton eleftheróste! - Demons of Lucifer, release him!

O Ángelos den eínai típota perissótero! - The Angel is no more!

_**(Translation Gaelic Irish - English)** _

Dóiteáin - Fire


	9. Psychosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clary leaves, Jace falls into a state of depression and begins neglecting his health; he becomes closed and starts to reject those around him. It leads him, not only to become a victim, but to find out just how special his blood truly is.

**9**

**Psychosis**

Jace cringed as he touched the blistered the burn mark that had been singed into the skin on his shoulder. The warped rune that had been the reason the burn was placed had somehow managed to vanish as the night went by, leaving nothing more than a white scar. He kept pulling at the skin, trying to get a full view of the mark, but was unable to and only managed to stretch out the wound.

“Stop agitating it,” Isabelle said as she smacked his hand away. He released an aggravated breath and turned to face the door, his fists now clenched as he tried his best to ignore the pain as she replaced the soiled bandages on and around his back. Used bloody dressings sat on a cloth next to him on the footboard. His jaw clenched and eyes clamped shut as she tightened the wrappings with aloe pressed against the gashes. It burned when it seeped into the wounds, radiating from his shoulder blades and down his back; he tried his best to ignore it.

“Awe…can’t handle a little sting?”

Jace shook his head and looked down at the floor just as Isabelle clasped the wrap to keep it in place. Already, a bit of blood was seeping through. “There,” she said as she picked up the used bandages and stood straight. “Good as…well, it’s good.” She tried to send a casual smile to him, but he just shook his head after glancing up at her, not returning the sentiment. Sighing and shaking her head as she dumped the soiled wrappings into the small waste basket by the table near the door, she went on with, “Want me to get you anything?”

“I’ve got a few things she could get.”

“No,” she frowned at his response, not bothering to hide the concern that came with it. “Thanks, Iz, but…I just want to be alone for a bit.”

Empathy shined behind her eyes, but when he gave a forced smile, she nodded. “All right. But no brooding or I’ll send Alec up here with a bucket of ice water.” A forced laugh accompanied the smile; though she picked up on it, she accepted it. Without saying anything else, she left the room, making sure to close the door behind her. Jace stared after her at the shut door, eyes half-closed.

The moment he was alone, his mind began racing with other thoughts, much less than pleasant.

When he shut his eyes, he was introduced back to the basement filled with mystic runes and blood – his blood. He could still see Jonathan’s sadistic amusement as his voice filled Jace’s ears with unfamiliar words and feel the sensation of hundreds of hands touching him, desperately trying to get what was contained within.

The area where the wings once were burned with the memories that had only happened days ago.

Six days to be precise.

Six days since he was trapped in that basement – trapped for mere hours that felt like days, weeks even. It had been four days since Magnus’ reverse spell had pulled the same wings back into his body, leaving only the large slits running down his back as evidence that they had been there at all. After that had been completed, he had expected the only thing he had left to deal with was being a mundane for about a month; however, even that had its setbacks, considering the damage done to his body. Most times, the pain was bearable, but certain scenarios and thoughts had the memory of the wing being broken and shattered cause, what felt like, the wings jerk and twitch beneath his skin, sending wave after wave of searing pain through his back.

But even that paled in comparison to what he was dealing with – the one thing that the others were not even aware of.

At first, he did not understand why they could not witness it, but, as the days had gone by, he understood that it was in his head, which meant—

“This is so boring. Is this all you do all day?” Jace forced his nails into the palms of his hands. “So pathetic.”

“Shut up,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

 “The Lightwoods are so annoyed with you, right now. Having to take care of you…such a burden.” Jace clenched down on his jaw and he felt his back twitch, sending a shock down his spine. “I bet that’s why Alec hasn’t been up to see you today. He’s finally realizing how worthless you are.”

“I said shut up!” he shouted, throwing the closest thing to him, which had been a small, decorative jewelry box, at the figure leaning against the door. The box hit the wall, breaking before it even fell to the floor.

The figure had vanished.

Jace’s heart raced as he sat straight, trying to calm down. He glanced around the room and, not seeing the other anywhere, released a sigh and tried to relax.

“Temper, temper.” He jumped and jerked his head around to see Jonathan sitting on the other end of the footboard. “Are you always this touchy?” He lay across it, setting his head on Jace’s lap, his arms behind his head. When Jace stood up, Jonathan pulled up, watching the wounded Shadowhunter walk towards the window. “Oh, come on. You can’t ignore me forever.” Jace tensed when Jonathan was standing behind him, leaning on him with his arms slung over his shoulders. “Might as well get used to me, Jace, because I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned in close to his ear, whispering, “I’m your own little demon.”

The blonde’s eyes did not dart towards the image, but, instead, gazed out of the Institution window over the late-afternoon, gray-skied city.

He wanted to tell the Lightwoods what he was experiencing, but wanted even less to bother them with more of his problems that he should be able to deal with on his own. After he had come-to from the reinsertion, he had been given a psychological evaluation, which he had done fine on; however, the following evening was when he began hallucinating – or, at least, he hoped he was hallucinating. He had also hoped that it would go away, but, as the days went by, they gradually became more and more apparent. Ignoring seemed to do nothing and just made it worse...and more annoying. The more he wanted to believe it to be a hallucination of the demon incarnate, the less likely it was becoming; which could only mean that Jonathan had invaded his mind.

He clenched down on his jaw when he felt, what felt like claws, dragging down his back. With his hand set on the windowsill, he fell into a crouch.

* * *

“ _Jace!_ ”

His name echoed in a black tunnel, sounding distant.

“ _Magnus!_ ” Isabelle’s voice joined in, sounding even further than Alec’s. “ _Do something!_ ”

Jace cringed from where he lay in the fetal position in the darkness, his body numb as he tried to respond to the voices. His vocals did not want to heed his commands.

“ _What’s happening?_ ”

The voice seemed even further away than the others, becoming unrecognizable.

His eyes cracked open, only to see blackness beyond him. Searing pain shot down his back and he could feel blood dripping down. Severed white feathers were scattered around him, drenched in black and red blood. Trying his best to ignore the pain, he turned to push himself to all fours before trying to stand. He staggered, knees bent as he barely made it. He called out, but the voices that had been echoing around him were gone and, instead, he stood alone. He called out Alec’s name, but, still, there was no response.

A whisper in the darkness.

He spun around, but still saw nothing. As he looked around, the pain in his back began to increase. It quickly went from a small nuisance to a painful burn.

Blood could be felt dripping down his back, along the curvatures of his body, down his leg and pooling at his feet. It felt as though the wings that had been shoved back inside his body were begging to come back out, pressing against the boundaries of his shoulder blades, pushing hard and forcing the skin to stretch to its limit.

Another whisper had him jerking back the other direction.

Only, instead of being introduced to nothingness, it was as though wind began to pick up, blowing the soaked feathers that surrounded him, mimicking a bloody snow.

Footsteps began to echo around him and he found himself squinting his eyes at an approaching figure. What started off as a blurry form of Alec began to morph as it got closer, transforming itself into the familiar sadistic face of Valentine’s son – Clary’s brother.

From reflex, he found himself moving into a defensive stance; it merely garnered pain shooting across his back.

Jonathan stopped a few feet away from him, hands put in the pockets of his black jeans. “Trying to go back to your messed up sense normality already?” He shrugged at the glare he was receiving. “Shame, really. Even battered and torn, wings suited you.”

Forcibly, Jace shook his head. “No…you’re not real.”

Jonathan laughed as the Shadowhunter eyed him. “Oh, I can assure you”—he stepped in front of him, reached out and grabbed his arm, digging his nails into the sensitive skin on his forearm—“I am very real.” Jace tried to pull his arm back, but the movement sent sharp jolts down his shoulder blades; instead, it allowed Jonathan pull him where their faces were mere inches apart. “You thought it would be this easy? Now, Jace. Even you aren’t that stupid.”

The sound of metal being pulled from a sheath met his ears right before Jonathan held up his own stele. Just at the sight of the pointed object being in his hands, every fiber of Jace’s being began begging to pull away, no matter the cost. “Get the hell away from me!” he shouted, jerking, doing nothing more than gaining more discomfort coursing through him. Positioning him at an odd angle to get to his shoulder, without so much as looking at what he was doing, Jonathan began tracing a rune into Jace’s skin. The contortion was forcing his shoulder to twist and he could feel it ready to move out of place if twisted any further. The Mark was done in mere seconds and, once it was complete, Jonathan just let the stele fall, clanking onto the floor at their feet.

“You can’t get rid of me, Jace.” Moving his grip on Jace’s forearm, he grabbed the younger male’s shoulder, keeping his thumb over the rune. The Mark burned, as though it were a performed with a branding iron, and began shining a bright red. The pain began coursing from his shoulder, down his arm, moving to his chest – it was too much.

As though his insides were on fire.

And he began screaming.

“We’re two halves of the same coin: angel and demon; Michael to my Lucifer.”

Jace’s entire body convulsed, the only thing holding him up being Jonathan’s hold on his shoulders. As the rune continued to glow red, the veins in his arms, chest, neck and face became apparent, but not with the dark hue of blood – the veins were turning black. Feeling as though needles were coursing in his veins with the burning sensation of fire, he could not hold back the yells emitting from his throat.

The pain would not stop.

“ _Ángelos kai daímonas_. _To myaló eínai sto spíti._ ”

The pain was suddenly replaced with asphyxiation and he got out one gasp before losing his breath.

“ _Jace! Wake up!_ ”

The image of Alec came into his head in the solid-glass room.

An image of Isabelle followed with Magnus before he heard, “ _Dóiteáin_ ,” echo around him.

* * *

Jace cringed at the pressure Alec’s arms put on his back, though it was slight. The moment he felt his ally tense, Alec let go and stepped back, apologizing. Jace shook his head, saying it was nothing.

The wind picked up, blowing their hair, as well as dead leaves, scattering them across the churchyard. Wanting to get out and get some fresh air, saying the opened window was failing to accomplish his need for a walk, Jace had left the boundaries of the Institution’s walls. He was only a few steps outside when Alec met up with him, a black hoody under his arm. When Jace inquired about it, the black-haired male responded by telling him the last thing they needed was for Jace to get sick. A light quarral ensued with Jace losing and accepting his loss by calling Alec his mother.

Of course, the moment he took it, it was met with a snide comment from Jonathan, who was sitting on a stone sarcophagus and picking his nails with a blade.

“Counting down the days, right?” Alec asked in a light tune, referring to the amount of time it would be for Jace to be a Nephilim again.

A hollow laugh escaped the blonde’s throat. “Yeah.” He cringed when the reverberation of the laugh put pressure on his back. “You have no idea.”

Alec nodded half-hazardly. “Don’t worry.” Jace looked to him. “This just means you can’t be suicidal for a while.” There Jace laughed. “Shame, I know. Where’s the thrill of keeping you out of trouble?”

“It’s going to make for a very dull few weeks.”

Seeing Jace with an honest smile had Alec mirror the emotion.

There was silence between them, listening only to the early evening chirp of birds and sound of wind moving objects through the air and along the ground. Jonathan was lying on his stomach on the sarcophagus, watching them and acting to throw the blade his was holding at Alec.

“What do you think, Jace?” he asked, getting the Shadowhunter to glance at him for a mere second. “Just one little slip of the wrist and—”

“You know...if I can be perfectly honest for one second”—Jace jerked his attention to Alec, who had gone from gazing across the grounds to looking at him—“I always wanted to take you up on that offer.”

Jace knitted his eyebrows together, staring at him intently, obviously confused. “Offer?” What was he talking about? "What off—”

He was cutoff by Alec lightly grabbing the underside of his chin, tilting his head slightly up and leaning down to softly press his lips against the blonde’s. There was a snide remark from Jonathan as Jace’s expression filled with bewilderment. As Alec pulled back, he opened his eyes to see Jace’s half-opened, confusion hidden well behind them.

“Alec?”

“When you told me that the only reason I wanted you was because I knew I could never have you, I wanted to tell you how wrong you were,” he said as he brought his hand down. Jace clamped down on his jaw, bringing his gaze down to look around at the ground in front of him. “The reason I couldn’t tell you that was...because I was scared.”

Jace finally looked back up to him, forehead creasing. “Of what?” It came out a bit more sarcastic and harsher than he had intended, but Alec did not seem to pay heed to it.

“Losing you?” For some reason, Alec appeared just as confused as Jace was, as though he was not sure how to respond. He had to search around for the wording he wanted to use. “You...had Clary.” Just at the mention of her name, a different emotion seemed to reflect behind Jace’s eyes, but he willed it away as his adoptive brother continued. “And I know I could never give you what she could. You weren’t my fall-back; I just couldn’t bring myself to be honest with you.”

Jace lolled his head, trying to keep his eyes away from Jonathan, who was lying down the top of the sarcophagus with his upper body hanging off the side facing them. “Alec, you’ve had a crush on me since I don’t even know.” Alec released a nervous laugh. “But you can’t just forget about your boyfriend, now can you?” A sly smile made its way to Jace’s face as a nervous one crossed Alec’s.

“Magnus has been the one telling me ways to trying to get you.” They switched expressions and Jace shook his head awkwardly.

“Awe. Isn’t that adorable?” A quick glance to Jonathan showed him pointing the knife like a dart at Alec.

“Jace.” Alec put his hands on his ally’s shoulders. Taking a deep inhale, he continued with, “I love you – more than I probably should, but I can’t help it. I see you hurt or knowing you’re hiding the fact that you’re in pain and I want to be right there next you, comforting you. Seeing what you went through after she left...I got angry. I was...jealous.” Jace pressed his lips together, trying to avoid Jonathan, who was making mocking gestures in their direction with the occasional commentary. “I knew you were hurt and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

A groan from Jonathan finally drew Jace’s attention. “By the Angel, this is pathetic. Are you really buying all this?” he asked, sitting up and pointing to Alec with the blade.

Seeing his ally’s attention diverted, Alec glanced over his shoulder, but brought his eyes back when Jace finally spoke up. “Alec...even if....” He trailed off as Alec’s hands slid off of his shoulders, looking at him sympathetically. “Even if...I could tell you”—he looked up to meet his blue eyes—“I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“I know what you could do: consummate the relationship.” Jonathan was now standing directly behind Alec with his chin on his shoulder. “What?” he asked, trying to get Jace’s attention. “Too soon?”

Alec laughed, a light laugh as he shook his head.

“You don’t have to do anything.” He reached up to set his hand on the side of Jace’s neck, his thumb by his ear. “As long as you know and I know, that’s it.” A nervous smile made its way back to Jace’s face. That was right before Alec took his hand back and shrugged. “Maybe with an occasional kiss or two.” The uncaring way he said it had Jace laugh, somewhat awkward-sounding by its sincerity.  

“All right,” he said, nodding his head. “I think that can be done.”

His eyes quickly darted back to Jonathan, who was looking at Alec in a mix between disgust and disbelief. “How is it your kind is able to be considered a Nephilim? Absolutely disgusting.”

Hearing the mocking words, an anger formed in Jace’s stomach and he began looking uncomfortable. Alec was looking at him curiously, but before he had a chance to ask, Jace cut him off with, “Kiss me.” He could feel Jonathan’s eyes on him, now, with the same expression.

Alec stared at him intently. “Sure?”

Jace shook his head after another comment from the demon-child. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

After a split-second of mild confusion, Alec brought his hand to run it through Jace’s hair. “Is it always going to be like this?” When Jace shrugged, Alec leaned down to capture Jace’s mouth. The moment contact was made, Jace brought his own hands up to grab the sides of Alec’s face, closing his eyes and creating a rather aggressive kiss. With the response he was not expecting, Alec’s shock was only a moment before he moved his hand to the back of Jace’s neck, his other arm wrapping across the blonde’s lower back, so as to avoid the slices. When the pulled apart, Jace kept his eyes shut to avoid having to see Jonathan and, instead, wrapped his arms around Alec’s shoulders, gripping him. Knowing his could not very well give the same amout of pressure, Alec still allowed his arms to close around Jace’s back, keeping his grip light.

Perhaps it was a poor time to notice, but he could not help but realize how weak Jace’s grip had become; the malnutrition came back into his mind, but he tried his best to ignore it. His adoptive brother was slowly starting to eat again, or so he had been the past few days.

“You realize he’s only doing all this out of pity, right?” Jonathan’s voice cut across the churchyard.

They pulled apart and, still keeping his hands on Alec’s shoulders, Jace brought his gaze to the ground. Another moment passed and they completely pulled apart. When Jace looked back up, he tried to hide the mental anguish from having Jonathan constantly by him. He wanted to tell Alec – tell someone, anyone. But the other part of his brain was yelling at him not to do it, that they did not need to know.

And that they very well might throw him out of their lives from being too much of a burden on their shoulders.

Seeing the expression, Alec’s brows pressed together. “Are you going to be okay?”

Jace looked over Alec’s shoulder to Jonathan, who was holding a blade, running his thumb over the edge before looking from Alec to Jace, smirking.

“Yeah,” Jace said, nodding as he glanced back to make eye contact with Alec. “I’ll be fine.” He gave Alec an oddly believable half-smile. He heard Jonathan’s mocking laugh and could not help but flinch when the blade he had been playing with was suddenly pressing against his face; Jonathan was now standing behind him with his other arm wrapped around his neck and shoulders. “I’m going to be okay….”

* * *

_**(Translation Greek → English)  
** _

Ángelos kai daímonas. - Angel and Demon

To myaló eínai sto spíti. - The mind is at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks!  
> Thank you a thousand for sticking through!
> 
> And to "mo," you've been great!   
> And I really have appreciated the support. (^ ^*)
> 
> Thanks a load, everyone m(__ __)m  
> Had some ups and downs with negative people, but the people who were honestly interested had me keep updating.


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